kazxraval

[kazxraval]

The beating was enough to knock him loopy. Restrained, nothing to see with the bag over his head, and no way to fight back. Fitting, he supposed, that his past returned to do the damage.

The present stood in the room too. A wild and beautiful wilderness named Emre. Worth the try to get out of there. To get Emre out of there, regardless if Emre would always be able to handle himself. Superior to Kaz, who had been conditioned to throw a punch but also to take one. Which he did (or more precisely, a kick to the head). He lost consciousness.

--

Georgie's march ground to a halt. Her hand lifted to near her head, but stayed far from the wet hock that began to dribble from the start of her braid to the skin of her neck. Feroze, as if waiting for the chance, swept in to slam a fist into Emre's stomach.

Fucking organ shifter! A tart smile twisted to face Emre. She sing-songed. 'Wishing you'd gone to dinner now, don't you.'

--

Kaz woke onboard another ship, this one lean and large. Designed for fancy floating parties and overnights around the San Juan islands. His pulse pounded in his temples and he uttered a disappointed fuck. Hands lifted to cradle the ache in his head, but the wrists were zip tied together.

Though not his feet, and he stood with a groan. Kaz found himself in a small room somewhere mid-deck, perhaps once a bedroom. A few slams of the shoulder into the locked door racked his bones with additional pain.

Vision was watery, blurry from pain in his head. He squinted to look out one of the windows. The boat swayed but had not pulled away from the island yet. As Kaz studied the dark scene outside, something dropped in front of the window and made a big splash into the water. He smiled.

The window was examined for escape. Same with the zip tie, as Kaz worked to yank his wrists apart hard enough to snap the binding.

Footsteps were heard on deck. Heavy and directionless, quick and frantic. Feroze's walkie-talkie fired off outside the door, muffled by distance and walls (warnings of missing crew members, an urgency to set sail). The engine engaged, and the ship began its calm slide away from the dock and towards the horizon.

Georgie knocked on the door anxiously. 'Kaz, Kaz, there's something I need to--' "Where is he?" He rammed his body at the door, and the hinges yelped under the impact. A deep bellow, after he'd thrown himself once more at the door. "WHERE. IS. HE! Where is he!"

She jumped away from the violent smack on the door and subsequent twisting of the door handle from the inside, her mouth open soundlessly. Stunned for a few seconds. Georgie shouted back to be heard. 'Stop it. STOP IT! Kaz! Feroze talked to your mother. She said you're dead. You're supposed to be dead!'

He paused with a panted breath. "I am dead, Georgina. She's right. Now fucking let me out of here."

Georgie stepped cautiously closer. 'You're so angry. You'll hurt me.' She shook her head, voice residing in the higher, most innocent register. 'When all I want to do is help. I said it back there, in the restaurant. I was trying to help, Kaz. I really was.'

Kaz's voice fell lower into his chest, silk-smooth and with a subtle smile. "I only ever hurt you when you begged me to. When it felt good, for both of us." A quick glance at the window, where the island retreated rapidly. Shit. Further away from Emre, he thought.

Or was he, how the hell could he know where Emre was? One of Georgie's skills was to lie. With compulsion, to stand by the highest and most unbelievable piles of bullshit and swear how sweetly it smelled. "Georgie. Open the door." Sudden calm carried through his words. "Because you know I'll break it down if I have to. And if he's hurt at all, I will come for you."

There was a shout down to Georgie, which Kaz couldn't hear too clear (Georgina! Captain's cabin please, we've got a problem!). Anger flooded her expression-- for Kaz's warning or the unexpected interruption, or both. Georgie stalked off with only a glare Kaz couldn't see. Once her footsteps faded, he set about using himself again to knock the door lock out of the frame.

Kaz creeped as fast and as stealthy as possible down the cramped corridors of the boat. While internally, all he wanted to do was scream: EMRE! Weirdly, he also began to notice that the cautious sneaking around wasn't entirely necessary. Few voices were now heard, and he began to wonder if he was on a ghost ship.

On deck, he crouched along a railing, out of sight. Whidbey behind them, course set for the north. A small life raft was attached to the side, but useless compared to the large vessel and crew aboard. Kaz imagined a plummet off the side and into the water, but he'd freeze before making it to land. And then what?

He thought of something black and wide that fell into the water from above. Emre. His heart registered before his brain. Emre was onboard, he had to be. As he heard someone approach, Kaz dove into a supply closet to find a weapon.

Ah. So Georgina did feel some type of possessiveness about Kaz, it seemed. Even after more than a decade - after what, 15, 16 years now? She wanted to be in charge of Kaz. She even acquired a lookalike in that Feroze bloke - young and strong and a proper prick.

Priti still didn't like her? Why did that matter? Emre couldn't imagine Kaz bringing this Georgina woman home to meet the parents. And sadly, Emre couldn't imagine Kaz's parents giving a fuck one way or another, about who did what to Kaz outside their so-called home. But was there some long-standing beef there, and Kaz was some kind of odd lynchpin holding this rivalry together? Estranged mum vs crazy girlfriend?

Good for her. Kaz's comment couldn't be more dry and lacking in feeling than a hot desert sun.

In their brief, perhaps foolish moment of respite, Kaz took time to explain geography to Emre - who knew the locations but couldn't mentally place them on any American map. Emre smiled, unable to help himself as Kaz slid easily from education to tease. Maybe Emre was also thinking about Iyaz at the moment, maybe not. Because he murmured without thinking, "I love you, so much."

Kaz insisted that Georgie wasn't the mastermind behind all of this, and another theory sprouted in Emre's mind - not about versus and more about necessity. That same connection through a missing son, a disappeared (ex?)boyfriend. Emre nodded about the health thing, taking note. "We'll sort it after we escape. Maybe I should wash the bloody thing off, yeah."

Escape turned out unfeasible. And then Kaz got punished for it, it sent Emre into a panicked if somewhat impotent rage. All he cared about was seeing Kaz alive. He knew Kaz likely took beatings, many beatings, especially after learning there was no safe place, not even a home. He knew Kaz had the survival capabilities that could probably evade a nuclear bomb. But Emre needed to see and make sure.

Georgina promising she did care about him. She cared so much, she hurt him. The thought stuck in Emre's throat like a razor, watching Kaz getting hauled up, barely conscious. A bloody hood on his head. Emre's attention sharp as he fell silent, let himself be pinned, and watched only Kaz. Georgie helpfully pointed to Kaz's destination. They were to be separated; despite Georgina's complaints about them wasting time, this was her plan all along. Fuck her, then.

Kaz so barely conscious, he had to be carried out - but he was carried, like precious cargo destined to a boat. Emre bobbed along between the guards, ignoring Georgina's questions but suddenly realizing where this was all headed. He gobbed blood and saliva at the back of Georgina's head. "If you're gonna do it, then do it. I don't have to tell you fuck all, slag."

And there it was: what Emre belatedly realized, seconds before they got to the kitchen. "Fucking organ shifter!" Emre could see the doctor - a dead-eyed balding man preparing a needle - and Georgie making her grand exit. The medical tools prepared, restraining straps on the exam table and dental chair.

And Emre realized something else, too: in his 4, 5 years on the island, he'd gone soft. Relaxed and reshaped his mind and muscles towards farming, not hunting. Adjusted his scruples to fit a society that cared about him - as a human being, if not a friend. A wild animal domesticated, gone docile. A part of his brain he'd put to a gentle sleep suddenly woke up, acrid and sour. And it blanketed the rest of his conscience with a floury white blanket.

The guards only needed two seconds to let go of one arm to strap him in. That was all Emre needed when he slammed his forehead into one guard's nose, and snatched a scalpel off the table. A smooth arc to slice the other guard - right across his eyes. Emre slid off the table, snatching a screaming guard's knife from his utility belt (similar to the one Parker apparently had and wore everywhere??? how????) and booted the eyeless man to one side for now, twisting to stab the broken-nose one in the neck, jerking it back out in a spray of blood. Helping himself to that guard's knife, he turned to the doctor.

"I'm just a doctor!" the man pleaded, his trembling hands up; and those were his last words.

---

It was late evening when Emre reached the boat, thankfully still there. Emre knew he only had minutes, but he hadn't seen anyone on his path from the kitchen to the dock. Good - no alarms raised. They'd all assumed Emre was a done deal, death under a scalpel with barely a whimper. He wasn't even sure if they'd loaded Kaz onto the boat yet...and maybe Georgina was fibbing about that anyway? Emre made his way up a gangplank, slicing the throat of another guard and lobbing the body into the water. The bodyarmour made it sink.

No firearms on anyone, which was interesting. Maybe they'd run out of bullets. He crouched on the deck and waited, watching the dock and banking on two options. Either Kaz would be carried by on land to some other destination - but Emre didn't think Georgina would bother trying to trick Emre. She didn't think much of him, beyond potential for organ farming. She just wanted Emre to see Kaz leaving.

Other option, was that Kaz was already on the boat, and it was just a matter of time before they set sail. On the open water, navigating between these tall-treed, misty, dark islands, then Emre would strike. If they were transporting Kaz somewhere, Emre did want to know where; but he wanted Kaz more.

And given everything she said and Kaz's obstinate impression of her, Emre felt sure: where ever Kaz was, Georgie would be with him. And Emre would save her for last.

[kazxraval]

Green eyes narrowed on Emre's challenge over differences between Ali and Kaz. Some kind of realization set in the tightness around her mouth. 'I don't need you to tell me about Kaz, thanks,' she said, short and to the point. Georgie then sighed dramatically and whined, 'Feroze! WHAT in the world is this man talking about! How long do I have to stand here before you fill me in?'

Feroze sounded just as put out. 'Ali was in one of the buildings he knows he shouldn't be. As usual. These jerks chased him down. Priti was already out looking for him.'

As if on cue, Georgie turned to Kaz to see his fists clenched. 'Priti still doesn't like me.' A closed mouth giggle. 'Ali lost his mother when the world ended. Priti has taken care of him ever since.' Kaz replied, "Good for her."

Emre's chat about the Wild West was somehow taken more seriously than it needed to be. Kaz tried to commit to memory Emre in profile at the window. "Wild West was more Arizona, New Mexico. Colorado. Didn't know you cared about that shit." His tone slipped to a playful drawl. "Should we get you a cowboy hat before we go?" His gaze dipped with slight guilty. Originally, it was Iyaz leaving for the States, wasn't it?

"Feroze doesn't have one. Can't tell about Georgie." No skin revealed with the sleeves pulled down on her sweat shirt. "But." The most compelling part. "Georgie's like, in charge of this. Some fucking way. Which doesn't make any sense to me. She's not like that. Got a pea brain on that one."

"The health thing? I'm telling you. It means something. Serious."

Proper finessed, innit. Kaz grinned. "Don't you think I know it by now?"

They were each surrounded by a hodgepodge of military gear and DIY apocalyptic protection. This movable barrier of people tore the ax from Emre. His arms weren't restricted but his chest met with hands which shoved and palms that pushed back. An offensive to and fro.

Crumpled into a ball on the ground, black sack over his head, Kaz thought he heard Emre. Hoped so, even if he did not have the right to the hope. Then, worry: run, Emre. Just run. Everything hurt, even thinking about moving hurt, let alone opening his mouth. The most assuring thought: Emre wouldn't stupidly hang around.

Georgie watched Emre go from pacing to a pose. 'I do care about him. That's why I'm doing this for him. I tried to help you both.' Her head shook slightly, voice lowered in the dainty lace covered tone she'd used on and off. 'We don't have a lot of time, and you two wasted it.'

The 'troops' filled in the gaps around Emre. Two moved even closer to pat him down before grappling with his arms and bringing them behind his back to secure.

Georgie turned away with a wave of her hand at the same time. Kaz was hoisted to his feet. Most of the men stepped out of the way for Emre to see, while a few remained to hold either man. Kaz slumped and supported by a few guards. His head, covered by a black bag, lolled forward lifelessly. There was blood around the collar and front of his shirt.

'There he is!' Georgie shouted with a pleased smile as she lifted Kaz's limp arm to wave at Emre. 'Say bye! He's going on the boat out there.' She pointed through one of the dining room's windows at a vessel docked at the pier outside. Georgie dropped Kaz's arm and took a few steps away, and the group of people around Kaz lifted him up to carry off.

Georgie spun around towards a dark corridor that ran along side the restaurant's kitchen. Emre was forced by her guards to follow. 'Now! Tell me a little about your medical history. Any major surgeries before everything went to hell? Or recent illnesses?' A pause, and her braid swung as she looked back to smile gleefully. 'Everything intact? Have all your teeth? Wait, how old are you anyway? Older than Kaz, right?'

They wound through the industrial kitchen. Not entirely empty, a few people inside lifted their heads over whisking and stirring to stare blankly at Emre. 'So. Tell me. Why do you have the tattoo but Kaz doesn't? I don't understand. No way you've been in Seattle long enough to get the ink. I would've known.'

A pause at a door on the far side of the kitchen. Georgie rose on her toes to peer at her reflection in a glass porthole. She smiled, stiff and static. Turned her head this way and that, seemed to be admire the bright true red lipstick she wore.

Then she pulled the door open. A makeshift doctor's office had been established inside. Complete with exam table, a dental chair with a white-hot light on adjustable arm attached. A sterile gown neatly folded. A scale in the corner. 'Be a good boy for the doctor and we'll get you a lolly afterwards. K? K. See you soon.' The guards hustled Emre to the threshold of the room as Georgie whirled around to walk off.

Emre figured Georgie simply had a retort - she was pretty, she likely had plenty of retorts for fresh-mouthed blokes. But a glance at Kaz, that near-imperceptible crease between his eyebrows like he wasn't expecting George's seemingly off-hand remark about Emre's health. Well, it had been years of separation between them, perhaps this Georgie had changed. Kaz certainly had, hadn't he?

Georgie's response about Ali answered some things. Feroze worked for Georgie, but Ali seemed to be a bit more of a free element. Reminding Georgie of Kaz - so a somewhat unpredictable free element.

"So why'd we find the kid in the vents of a building? And planning to scarper straight to his mum." He nodded sideways towards Kaz. There was no point trying to keep that part secret, in Emre's opinion. Both Priti and this Georgie in Seattle, both seemingly leaders of some sort. Either Georgie and Priti knew each other's situations, or this would be a surprise. But it wasn't exactly information either Emre or Kaz held any secrecy for. Especially given how little interest Kaz had in his mum. "Don't much sound like Kaz to me, that."

Without Georgie and her goons, Emre shrugged, looking out a window. "I've never been to America, luv. I mean - not before world ended. It's all new to me, innit. Don't look much like wild west though. But these girls and their gangs - deffo make me think it."

He grunted in assent, when Kaz traced the drawn tattoo on his wrist, stepping in closer so his voice dropped, only for Kaz. "Me, and Ali. I didn't see one on Feroze, did you? Did Georgie have one, or a different tat?" Emre bit back a question about who Georgina even was to Kaz. Better to focus on the tattoos.

"I don't understand. I can't figure any of it out. Whatever codes and gang marks they've got here, it's all new to me." And Emre thought: if Kaz couldn't figure it out, Emre hardly stood a chance. A pat and a tease, and Emre smirked. "Nothing good ever comes from letting white girls ride your dick, man. Get proper finessed, innit."

Their escape attempt ended up being a test, Emre realized in frustration. A 'watch-and-see' what they'd do, once supposedly 'alone'. Georgina couldn't be surprised that they attempted to escape, but it seemed Kaz's insults to her intelligence made her more vengeful than she'd originally advertised. Under all her frippery and winsome acting, she wasn't pleased; and Emre tensed. Watched her brush her white-blonde hair against Kaz's cheek like he was nothing more than property.

"No - Kaz -" Emre startled when the men moved swiftly, like it was planned to surround them both so efficiently. How much of this did Georgie have planned? Kaz insulted her intelligence, and yet it felt to Emre like they were just being toyed with, a girl and her dollies. When the sick wet smacks started, of objects hitting flesh, Kaz's unabated yells of pain started - noises coming from a man who could silently take multiple punches and smile in toothy bloodiness - Emre's eyes widened in true fear.

"KAZ!" Emre yelled, and flung himself towards the circle of men surrounding him; but it was a wall in a penalty shot - there was no getting through. Emre managed to affix the axe into one guard's ribs, but all he got was a grunt - were they in riot gear, or vests? - and Emre's arm was wrenched back, the axe twisted away. But they didn't beat him, not like they were doing to Kaz. So Emre launched himself, again and again towards the guards, getting pushed back into the circle again and again.

Until the scuffle stopped, and Emre paused too. He heard nothing. Silence. Not even huffing pants, or moans. "No - no - NO! If you damaged him, I'll kill you. If you did anything to him, I'll fucking KILL YOU, you fucking coward cow! I thought you cared for him, why you allowing this?! WHAT! What the fuck do you want!" Emre howled and paced in the circle, glaring at each of the guards. "Fuck you, I'm not telling you anything until you let me see him."

One concession. His axe was already taken away, but Emre finally planted his feet, raised his arms out. "Search me, if you got to. I've got fucking nothing, alright. I want to see him, now. NOW!"

[kazxraval]

Emre made a polite promise but it lacked conviction. And they had a means to contact Urmilla in the present, despite the connection being so tenuous. Kaz wanted to fight back, supply reasons why these places still had significance. How different this was compared to viewing a childhood home through the lens of an adult. But Kaz stayed silent.

Of all the accents for Emre to choose, the off-kilter Southern accent made him hiss with laughter. "Heard about those southern desi gangs running chai across state lines and that." Feroze had also become another piece of equipment in the boat, like an extra oar. "Hey, try not to get distracted by dolphins again as we come up on the island, yeah?"

On Whidbey, Georgie made a circling examination of Emre. When he proffered a suggestive remark, Georgie answered objectively. 'You look healthy enough.' Kaz frowned. What in the world did she mean by that? Georgie finally locked eyes with Emre when someone else was mentioned. 'Ali? The kid?' Georgie audibly took a breath, with a brighter smile and tilt of her blonde head. 'My guess is, he has even less of an opinion of you. Sorry' An amused huff, attention still on Emre. Georgie simpered. 'Is Ali your little emotional support puppy? Huh? Huh?' She pointed an immaculately long and polished nail at Kaz (considering this was a post-apocalyptic world, somehow Georgie found the means to a manicure). 'Don't let him fool you, the kid reminds me of him sometimes.'

After all those years, Georgie came marching through a mine field in order to set Kaz off. The burst of energy and rippled release through the muscles felt good. Emre gave no brrrap! or those particular finger pops without snapping, the ones Kaz had grown to look forward to. To expect. Instead, Emre froze over on the spot. Why? Kaz wondered.

When Georgie smoothed it all away with her defenders and left Kaz and Emre alone, the unexpected continued. "The Wild West?" His brows screwed up tight to study Emre for a moment. "Not exactly." A fleeting grin. "Since when do you care about the Wild West?" Then Kaz took Emre's wrist to trace over the 'tattoo'. "Something about this, Emre. Everything changed when she saw this on your wrist." Kaz gave Emre's cheek a soft, affectionate pat, one that matched his smile. "Sorry stud, she's interested in your tattoo, not your dick."

Emre already had an exit plan. Because of course he did, as reliable as ever. Kaz admired the grip on the axe handle. "Got it. Whack them, run. I'm right behind you." The small knife Kaz carried would come in handy after all. Not as savage as Emre's axe, but enough to debilitate as necessary. They moved silent and in sync towards the door, and Kaz followed Emre's lead with a hand on his shoulder too.

And then Georgie interrupted. Kaz used to love that voice. Smooth as marble. Naturally deeper, but Georgie had the tendency to speak in a higher pitch when she was needy, wanted something, especially Kaz's attention. A baby voice that now grated on every nerve Kaz had.

He turned to look behind them-- and then around. "They can see us," Kaz whispered. Yet they couldn't see Georgie, or anyone else. "This is a bit dramatic for you, Georgina," he shouted. "You always thought you were so clever. But you weren't. Still aren't." A beat. "But gotta say, you were the best at sabotaging yourself."

It was Kaz's refusal to comment on the way Georgie used his father against him, which truly didn't interest Kaz so much. The doors popped wide, and Georgie's stage act continued. He glanced over his shoulder at Emre before his eyes burned a hole through Georgie. "So did you."

'That's the nicest thing you've said so far, Kazzy.' Her eyes shone with emotion, lower lip bitten to stop a quiver. Georgie's 'private militia', or whatever they represented, invaded the room. Rings of people with weapons pointed at them swelled around Kaz. And did the same with Emre, all keeping a distance.

'I told you both to listen to me,' A bratty verbal eye roll, and irritated squeak of hmph! 'And Feroze, why on earth would you let someone in here with an axe? Sheesh!'

'Kaz, you say I sabotage myself? Pot, kettle, black, baby.' She brushed the tail end of her braid across Kaz's cheek before positioning herself between the two groups of guards. With a gesture of Georgie's hand, the sounds of a scuffle came from the circle Kaz was surrounded by. Emre wouldn't be able to see through the taller ones (soz Em). But Emre would be able to hear Kaz's very muffled and frantic screams.

He wouldn't be able to see Georgie either, and had to rely on hearing her. 'How good of friends are you two anyway, Axe Man?' A bubbly, squeak of a laugh rose up. 'Because I don't remember Kaz having a lot of friends? Other than me, uhhh actually the friends...' She trailed off for a moment before a louder return.

'So, I wonder if you'll want to see this?' Another giggle. 'FIRST!! I need you to put the axe on the floor okay? Let them check you for other weapons.' A thud, and low groan from Kaz before he went quiet. 'Maybe now you'll tell me your name.'

"We will," Emre decided to promise, about Urmilla-tourism. But from the bits and pieces that mum and Kaz gave Emre, he knew mum left Seattle around the time Kaz had disappeared to the island. That was over 15 years ago. Things had changed. Mum's office taken by other workers, her flat lived in my other tenants. Emre promised Kaz, but the truth was he didn't think they'd ever do it.

And even if they did get there, did it really matter? Emre was fascinated by Kaz's idea of nostalgia. It was like a man deeply alien to sentimental feelings of the past, gamely trying to reconstruct sentiment but for Emre's sake. It was both heartbreakingly touching, and devastatingly sad. "Once I re-visited the brownstone I grew up in, when I was in my twenties. It wasn't the same."

It was an offhand question that Emre might later claim was due to the wet cold (and maybe the dolphin-sighting) but. Regardless, being on the receiving end of one of Kaz's more brilliant, stunningly genuine smiles, was enough to warm an entire planet. No words exchanged but Emre was happily blinded, warm in his chest if no where else.

A riff instead, and Emre couldn't help shooting back in an egregious American accent (more Southern than PNW), "Carn't escape thee gang life, bro. That thar's hard-wirerrrd in you."

Feroze looked at them like they were insane, but Emre had stopped noticing Feroze by now.

And then they were faced with Miss Ballion. Georgina Ballion, as Kaz called her. Kaz's own tone turned...not exactly peevish, but had a familiarity in a way Emre hadn't heard on the island before; closest, was with Tamyra. Georgina Ballion knew another Kaz, the pre-island Kaz. The Kaz of myth and legend, never to be recaptured, from what Emre had derived from Kaz. Those old glory days.

Georgina seemed to switch tactics, and Emre loosely held onto his tattooed wrist. They were being inspected; but this time Emre didn't have to just stare ahead, like an animal for sale. He watched Georgina watching him, and flicked his chin towards her. A quiet, low, "Like what you see, love?"

Georgie, a petname. But Kaz called her 'Georgina', fullname. Emre knew enough about exes to fill in some gaps here. Feroze supplied his opinion, which was a good one. Emre thrived when he was underestimated.

"What about Ali?" Emre asked Georgia, not bothering to provide his own name. He rather liked just being known as 'Kaz's friend'. "He might have a different opinion from his brother innit."

Georgie sprung into a sing-song set of somewhat ineffectual accusations, but not even Emre expected what happened next. His only reaction was to freeze, as still as he could, watching as Kaz effortlessly flipped a heavy wooden dining table. A reaction, which might've been exactly what this Miss Ballion wanted from her ex-man. The anger booming from Kaz, made Emre remember the last time Kaz had shouted at him. It was genuinely terrifying, that voice. The enunciation, the power behind every word, the echo that boomed off the ceiling. Feroze in the other room definitely heard him.

As did, it seemed, a bevy of footsoldiers. It confirmed to Emre his original doubt - of course people were on-guard on Whidbey Island. But instead of Priti, it was Georgina Ballion. That made two prominent people who Kaz knew. What the hell was going on here? A question Kaz himself repeated aloud.

Emre braced in minute ways, but Georgie called off her attack dogs, made another attempt to ingratiate herself to Kaz (who was an expert at unresponsiveness. Georgie should've known better...or did she?), Plans for dinner and drinks of all things. Everything would be explained. She seemed willing to talk; but of course Georgie's idea of 'dinner' might be feeding them to pigs, alive, bit by bit. She seemed like a nutter, albeit playing to her strengths. He wouldn't underestimate her either.

With the guards guarding exit points from the outside, it felt like he and Kaz were truly alone. Kaz coming in with the strategic outlook, and Emre just frowned in thought, looking around until he finally met Kaz's eyes.

"Is this like a western? The Yank 'Wild West'? Is this where it all would've happened in history? Oh my days..." Emre murmured wondrously to himself. Seattle was full of the most unexpected things. Then, he straightened up and nodded. He wouldn't make the same mistake he'd done, about Priti. "Fuck yeah we get out of here. Only three of them dogs left by the left exit, that's our best bet to whack 'em and run."

Emre was insanely curious what Georgie had to explain. Even Kaz revealed a bit of his own curiousity, in his angry demand. But the priority of freeing Kaz from his past, took precedence.

Emre hefted his axe (they hadn't disarmed him. He should've known by that, but he was too overcome with trying to get Kaz out) and shifted towards the left exit, treading lightly. A peek outside, where he counted three heads, facing out. A look to Kaz to get ready. And then -

"Oooooooh Kazzy." Georgie's voice seemed to blast through the rafters above, weirdly all-encompassing. A trick of sound, nothing else; but enough to make Emre freeze again. "You think I don't know you, after all this time? I knew your father too, my babyboy. He liked flipping tables whenever he didn't get his way..." Her voice turned petulant again and Emre could almost imagine Georgie pouting, bottom lip jutted out. "He also liked beating up on unsuspecting people, you big ol' meanie."

The main doors flung open again, and Georgie looked stern, like a disapproving teacher. "Ah ah. Any more of that bad behaviour, and I'll have to cancel dinner. Maybe I'll just get Feroze to tie you both up, the way you guys did to him. It was sooooooo.....effective." She lowered her eyelids, gave a little sadistic shudder of delight to match her red-lipped smile. She held her own wrists together, palms outward. "You always liked a good tie-up, didn't you."

[kazxraval]

Motoring along through the sound had not been on the agenda. Kaz had been on boats. Most of his experience with the back and forth ferries. A few times with friends back in the day. But he'd never steered one through the sound himself.

If Feroze wasn't squirming around on the floor and muttering from behind a sock, it'd be tranquil. Relaxing. They could haul an outboard motor to the island. But it would eat up gas. Those and other thoughts hung in thick clouds over his head as they cut through water so deep it looked like ink.

Kaz felt the chill of their legs pressed together as the wind whistled over them. Emre must be freezing, he thought. So Kaz pushed the boat heavier in the direction of the island. Which was well off the route of the initial destination: Urmilla's Seattle. "I wanted us to go by your mother's place too," Kaz said. A continuation of his own thoughts, not necessarily heard and also not needing to be either.

Am I the most beautiful thing?

Caught off guard. The phrase uttered low but the power of the words like an amp cranked to 11 pounding at his chest, he felt each syllable. His gaze paused to study Emre huddled in the other bastard's hoodie. The tip of the nose with the same cold red flush as Kaz's must've had, and he smiled wide. Yes. YES! The most beautiful thing he'd ever laid eyes on... and fucking Feroze ruined the moment with his nattering bullshit. Kaz had to tell him. Once they were off that leaky little boat and alone. He'd hang an arm around Emre's neck and grab his face with the other hand, turn his mouth into a hard kiss. And say yes, you're the most beautiful thing. The most beautiful thing to me.

When it was said Kaz would make a good roadman, the reply mimicking Emre's accent. "Fink I'd be bloody brilliant, better than you mate." Emre felt the weight of a small axe in his palm and seemed content. The same hand later took that weight and kept it at Kaz's back while they walked to the old restaurant on Whidbey.

Miss Ballion. Kaz had dreamed of the day someone said the name and his heart didn't lurch with painful memories. Today was that day. The space in his chest filled with so much more. Miss Ballion only a small curiosity now.

Of course, no way to convey it all to Emre in the moment, unfortunately. Not in those sparse few seconds where they locked eyes.

'My. Mum? I don't.' Staggered, almost a squeak of a voice. "I don't know where my mum is.' Georgie had never been the brightest bulb.

Kaz exhaled, exasperated. "It's a yo momma-- come on, Georgina."

A petulant scoff to Kaz, and then she covered her mouth. Fingernails coated in bubblegum pink, paint chipped. More than a few arm's lengths from Emre, she looked him over slowly as she walked in a safe circle around, to investigate every angle of with some kind of mental magnifying glass. Not a rake of attraction or even curiosity. More a cataloguing-- of what was not known.

After a minute, her hand dropped. She shined a beaming, deeply dimpled grin at Emre. 'Oh. I'm soooo sorry, gosh. I'm Georgie! I'm sure he's told you all about me. Us.' Mascara'ed lashed batted once. 'Feroze, what do you think?'

'I think they're two of the biggest morons I've ever met.' Irritated, Feroze lifted his tied together hands that connected to a lead, which then attached to rope around his waist. 'Otherwise, I can't do jack shit over here until you help me out.'

Georgie snapped fingers and pointed to a set of closed doors. 'Wait for us,' and Feroze complied by shuffling off to disappear, still tied. Her smile broke as she arrived to stand in front of Kaz again, so large and filled to the brim with happiness her eyes were almost entirely squinted shut. She spoke quietly on another excited bounce on her toes, their difference in height glaring. 'You did that to him. You tied him up! I know it was you, I can tell bu--'

Kaz stepped to a nearby table to upturn it, the clatter of the table top as it landed on its married chairs momentarily deafening. "The hell is going on here, Georgie! Huh?" Kaz snapped angrily, his voice reverberated from the highest eaves of the dining area. Georgie yelped and covered her ears as she cowered in place (but didn't leave his side). "Why the fuck are we even here??"

The thunderous noise and shouting attracted a flood into the room. Emre was flanked by several people in varying clothes to withstand the weather (jeans, fatigues, layers) but faceless behind gaiters and balaclavas. As they approached Kaz with nothing but force in their eyes, Georgie stepped in between. 'It's okay! It's okay." Her palms up to plead. 'He doesn't understand. Please! Let me talk to him. Give us a minute. He won't hurt me. Oh, and his friend is the guest of honor tonight.' She stole a quick look at Emre's 'tattoo', and then at him. 'If I ask your name, you're not going to say your mum again, are you?'

The tension lifted as the muscle in the room settled around the perimeter to keep a watchful eye. She stepped in to Kaz and stood on her toes again, this time to rest a hand on his cheek. Except he caught her wrist. Georgie's fingers curled into her palm and she sank to her heels with an irritated exhale.

'Fine, be that way. But I never stopped caring about you.' A pause. 'You remember how it was. How we were, together.' Kaz cast a blank glance out the nearest window. Georgie bit her lip, nothing but innocence and light flowing back. Helpful, concerned. 'I won't let anything happen to you. Or your friend. I'll tell you everything over dinner.' With her overly friendly veneer in place once more, she smiled at Emre. 'I'll give you two a few minutes. What's your favorite drink? I'll make sure you have it before our meal.' Georgie's laugh sounded airy, almost haughty as she tossed her twisted hair over a shoulder and led the others out of the room. The absence of asking Kaz the same question a noticeable insinuation. They were alone for what Kaz assumed to be a very brief moment. He stared at Emre for a few seconds and then moved in close to whisper. "All those people who came in here, Emre. I counted maybe ten, twelve of them." He rested a hand on Emre's shoulder. "She said she'd tell me what's going on in when we get in there." Kaz nodded to the door everyone had disappeared behind, where he assumed 'dinner' would be held.

"Dunno what all this guest of honor shit is. I saw her look at your wrist." A breath. "Should we try to get the fuck out of here?"

'You’re a beautiful thing, Emre Akbar.'

Things got quiet, almost serene once they settled into the boat. Feroze silenced finally with a sock in his mouth (how Feroze didn't gag, Emre didn't know. He hated that feeling. He'd hated it), his noise reduced to a scruffy struggle on the boat's floor. The hum of the motor engine blended into the sound of lapping water around them, islands with tall dark trees that shot straight up, cloaked in mist. It made Emre peaceful, bundled in Feroze's jumper that Kaz so thoughtfully stole from Feroze to drape around him. Teeth still chattering slightly, but Emre was okay, and he told Kaz as much. Kaz a little worse for the wear in Emre's opinion, but he'd never let it show.

Kaz expressed no understanding, between himself and Feroze, and Emre stared at his sullen resting face. Kaz could pin and tighten his features so taut into blankness; but when they slackened, those same features could be come so soft, plush and deceptively winsome. The warmest brown eyes, the suede of his skin, the flush plump lips...then Emre glanced over at Feroze glaring daggers at them. He shook his head. "Yeah. Never mind, darling."

Emre slid in closer, thigh leaning into Kaz's longer one. Kaz cut a hazy figure against the dark water and darker islands, rimed with white mist. No shadows on him; the sun had disappeared behind clouds, but it was still bright enough. Kaz grew up here, Emre thought. Kaz used to belong here. For as much as Kaz would hate on the island, bitter and mournful of what he'd lost (in his own Kazzy way), this wasn't what Kaz came back for, was it. He didn't want to relive his glory days in this 'Pacific Northwest'.

But it was quite beautiful.

"Am I the most beautiful thing?" Emre asked Kaz quietly. But by then Feroze managed to spit out the sock, and was back to mockery. To which Kaz snapped back - a tailgating (stern-gating?) threat that Feroze should take seriously, in Emre's opinion.

It twisted something in Emre's heart, to hear Kaz - Kaz! - get almost sentimental about the lost cutlass. Kaz might not define it that way, but Emre knew yearning well. Emre squeezed Kaz's hand on his knee, and nodded his chin towards Feroze. "I've got new weapons now, don't I. Upgrades. You'd have made a top bloody roadman, you would. Bloody hell, the brutality on my mans."

Emre still searched the duffel where Kaz directed, and tugged out a small hand axe. He hefted it in a hand; it looked good for small jobs, like chopping rope. Good enough. Emre stood over Feroze, as Kaz snapped more orders at the younger man. "Cheers, mate."

The smirk Feroze gave was meant to be unnerving and it worked; Emre looked away, out towards the island itself. Taking in the woods, the paths, the black-wood and glass buildings. Evidence of a ferry landing and streets now overgrown. A tourist's haven, Emre guessed.

'She' was waiting, and Emre frowned slightly to himself. How could Priti have gotten to Whidbey island quicker than them? Was there another route, had Feroze given them the long tour, stalling for Priti to arrive? He glanced at Kaz hauling and securing the boat, whose expression was built from steel, making his short laugh like a grinder cutting into metal - acidic, dangerous.

Emre said nothing, not then. As they walked, he rested his hand between Kaz's shoulderblades, his fingerpads pressing along the knobs of Kaz's spine. Just until they reached the restaurant, then Emre's hand dropped. He didn't know what to believe from Feroze. He found it hard to believe Priti - or anyone - would be here, alone and waiting. Emre was determined not express anything, not until Kaz had a chance to see his mother up close.

'Miss Ballion' didn't sound right though, nor did Kaz's repetition of the name. Like it was familiar, but not in the expected way.

"Kaz...?" Emre asked, but he didn't expect any clarification, not yet. He fell completely silent at the sight of a small blonde girl...no, a woman. Emre squinted when she spun to face them, trying to discern her age. Her pet name for Kaz pealed out like country church bells in the dark dining hall, pitched like a cricket ball to the stomach for Emre. A pure, high sound, eager and joyful, cupped between her small hands and paired with diamond-precision tears in her big round eyes. Emre stared at her in open disbelief, not understanding a bit of this. This ageless child-woman...and Kaz?

The cotton candy facade dropped and Miss Ballion looked her age. Still Hollywood pretty, but certainly no longer an ingenue. For a hot, burning second, Emre thought she was referring to 'KAZ' sprawled boldly on his stomach. But he quickly realized she meant the Sharpie imitation of the tattoo.

A glance from Feroze to Kaz, orange sunset illuminating them both as they bookended Emre. And Emre then responded for himself, with the only answer he could think of. "Your mum." A kiss of his teeth. "Who the fuck are you then? Miss Ballion?"

[kazxraval]

Nothing felt better than the deliciously unbearable sensation of Emre’s teeth on his skin. Kaz fed off it. Emre’s moan echoed in every corner of Kaz’s body, like a physical touch that bounced around to claim I belong here. And here. This is mine too. A gorgeous breathy sound out of someone who once kept Kaz at a 'no homo' arm's length.

Now, Emre never stopped him.

This was returned, this feeling. Can’t lose you at the airport. Kaz couldn’t help but smile. Genuinely so funny. So weird it was clever. Something not to be left on a never-ending carousel, not to be lost. Haunch– he’d likely never hear Emre utter the word again. Slick fingers along Kaz’s thigh turned him on even through fabric. Made him think how well they fit together without clothes in the way, which also threatened to make him hard. 

A hand scrunched the back waistband of Emre’s shorts. Kaz also grabbed for the fingers on his thigh to give a thankful but urgent squeeze. TIme was short. One last sip of this, this jovial fucking around. A final look at the eyes on him before they peeled themselves apart. “You’re a beautiful thing, Emre Akbar.”

At the dock, on the boat– Kaz continued unaware of his place on a slide under someone’s meticulous microscope (some he fancied, someone not Feroze). The focus fell on keeping a broader eye on the impromptu trip. As wide as the sound their boat navigated through. 

His heart rose into a constricted and dry throat as he willed the boat engine to get him faster to Emre. Strangely, Emre sat higher in the water and didn’t drift off course much. Eh? Either way, he looked cold but intact, which was all Kaz cared about. With Feroze sufficiently restrained, Emre was hauled into the boat again. Kaz immediately cradled his face to look Emre over. “Don’t worry about me.” He huffed. “That water’s deep, it's freezing fucking cold. Thought I lost you for a second.” Despite the binds, Kaz wormed Feroze’s hoodie off to wrap around Emre’s wet shoulders. Feroze protested with a steady string of insults, so much that Kaz ripped a shoe off the man, tossed it overboard, and stuffed a grimy socks in the guy’s mouth. 

The boat was fired up and they were off again. Kaz kept a hand on the rudder while his other urged at Emre’s knee to scoot closer. “Why they… what?” He shouted over the loud brrr of the engine. His head shook slowly, utter confusion in his frowned expression. “No, I. What the fuck am I supposed to see, Em?” 

And no, he didn’t expect Emre to drop them off and circle the car around the block, so to speak. A choice was given, even if Kaz realistically wanted to expect he wouldn’t be marching Feroze around on the island on his own. He looked at the wet slap on a stomach and wondered if the ocean water had scrubbed away his autograph from earlier.

Every brand of Emre’s kisses were appreciated. This one felt unexpected, exciting. Proud, proof of something, maybe. Kaz matched it, hard and stark. Wet and salted from a water rescue, but a warm little fire between their mouths still.

Feroze balked similarly to Ali earlier. ‘Please. Spare me.’ His eyes squinted as he turned his head away. ‘Get a room, don't force your... I don't want to see that.’ 

“Want a room with a view of the ocean floor? Gonna hang you off the back and drag you behind the boat if you don’t shut the fuck up.”

There was a shift in Kaz, the set of his growled jaw slacked suddenly. A glance cast behind them, as if the knife floated on top of the water like driftwood and all he had to do was swing the boat around. Grab it out of the water, as he did Emre. “Oh,” with a soft pause, a plaintive: “I’m sorry. You’ve had the cutlass since we met.” His mind set about ways to replace it as the boat slowed, the shore in sight. As an afterthought, he replied, “Yeah. This is it, we’re here.” 

Emre climbed on Feroze, who tried furiously to buck them off. ‘Hey!’ he writhed on the floor of the boat like a fish out of water and still on the hook. And then with snark, ‘Oh, you want to kiss me now too, is that the deal? Get the fuck off me!’  Kaz watched in silence for a moment before a blink. “I’ve got a camp knife." He pointed to something close to Emre. "Down there with the lifejackets, looks like he’s got a bag stashed.” A small duffel bag, army green with gold zippers and snaps. 

The engine was cut and the waves pushed the boat closer to a bank of trees and rocks. Kaz sank down towards Feroze to grab a handful of hair, a handle to turn their captive on his back. “Where do we need to go? Don’t try to set us up either. You do, and you’re gonna get my knife,” Kaz dragged a finger across Feroze’s neck. “Understand?” 

‘I get it, I get it! Yes, yeah. I’m not fucking dumb’ A grumble before a half smile, his attention turned to Emre. A smile that unfurled fuller, wolfish. Either to indicate the dumb one was Emre. Or perhaps with knowledge of what was to come.

‘The old restaurant over on the piers, you know it? Fish and oyster place that's right on the water. Used to be real fancy.' He waited for a nod from Kaz. 'She’s there.’ Feroze's gaze finally moved from Emre to Kaz. ‘She just wants to talk to you. That’s all. Says you know each other.'

A wry laugh from Kaz. Galled, got his hackles up. He poured the peeved energy into grabbing up his backpack. "Yeah." The bitch. "She knows me." A rope was slung over a shoulder, to use in pulling the boat closer in, and then anchoring it for departure. "I know where the piers are. You'll show us how to get there without a welcoming party coming out for us. Got it?"

Once on shore and a debrief on the route from Feroze, the three began a trek through the evergreens. Kaz glanced over to Emre with a thought-- wouldn't it be funny to be teleported out of there then? Poor old Feroze left standing there, hands tied and clueless.

At the piers, the old restaurant stood out among the other smaller buildings. The only two story one with any type of design in the middle of tiny boxes and rectangular structures. This place looked more like a stately old mansion on a hill, only the back end was supported over the water. The type of place people went to celebrate special occasions like anniversaries and birthdays.

While the wooden facade showed wear from sea and wind, the inside remained the same. Polished tables lacked their white clothes, some fixtures missing, but overall maintained as if prepared for a party of 15 to show up that evening for a reservation.

The walk carefully, to keep their footfalls mostly silent. Eyes darted into the corners of rooms and up stairwells. Feroze abruptly broke the quiet with a loud bray. 'I said no one is in here! Just her! She's not out to get anyone. God, you two. How'd you make it this far anyway?' He shook his head but then nodded towards an opening into the back dining area.

He shouted louder. 'Miss Ballion! He's here!'

"Ballion?" Kaz whispered, with a certain perturbed disbelief on his face. Kaz had just stepped through a tall archway into the dining hall. Floor to ceiling windows lined the room, with a view of a sun he hadn't realized was setting over the water. For a brief second, Kaz saw her doubled-- a reflection in a pane and then the real version.

As she turned to see him, a long blonde braid swung off her shoulder. The petite white woman was older than all of them. Only up close would the grey mixed in the blonde be noticed, as well as the thin lines around the eyes, between the eyes, and on the forehead. A youthful smile belied her exact age.

Kazzy!' Breathless, almost with a childish whine. She rose on her toes for a moment, but mostly appeared restrained. The woman's hands unclasped to press at her cheeks and she blinked tears away. 'I knew it was you. The way they described you.'

I knew it!' An audible exhale, shaky but evidently excited. She started towards Kaz but after a few steps, abruptly stopped. It was as though she'd only then realized the presence of others in the room. With a cross look on her face, the higher pitch in the voice fell away and deepened, like the adult version of the woman stepped in. 'Feroze. Who is this?' She pointed to the Sharpie-tattoo and addressed Emre herself. 'Who gave you the mark?'

And electric charge cartwheeled up Emre's spine, like he'd never felt before. Emre loved everything about sex, the build-up and the payoff. But hearing Kaz utter his desire, so plain and obscene, ignited Emre's fantasies to exactly this scenario. It was unlike anything he'd felt before meeting this gorgeous, unstoppable man.

"Kaz, fuck," Emre whispered incoherently, because his legs were already aching, and his mouth already biting Kaz's jaw, filling it with soft flesh, soft hair, strong tendons. A soft moan to reverberate into Kaz's bones, because it was all Emre needed. Complete symbiosis.

A snicker, as Emre considered Kaz's markup ideas. "You'll be written all over me, won't you. And I can't lose you in the airport either, can I. Gonna get my full name and address, wrapped around this haunch." Emre tickled his fingers up Kaz's long thigh, teasing on the inside.

A fun thrill, imagining all this. Just encasing each other in proprietary graffiti, a blatant show for themselves, and anyone else. Maybe it was true, then. Maybe, what if, perhaps Emre didn't feel that urge anymore, that FOMO to fuck anyone else. Maybe Kaz felt the same, maybe not.

Regardless, thoughts for another time.

Because Emre was somewhat caught up in the uncanny valley of Feroze. The way he delivered his chatter, especially, that distinct dull tone that Emre had thought exclusive to Kaz. But Feroze used it too, effortless like their type was genetically coded this way. Emre didn't want to jump to any mortifying conclusions just yet but. But if Emre had to fuck anyone other than Kaz, maybe it would be Feroze. Like fucking a discounted brand.

At the dock, it was much easier to gaze at Kaz. Everything about Kaz spoke familiarity, like the difference between distinguishing a real person and some CGI imitation. All was not well with Kaz, but Emre had seen this before - with little Ani's ghost. Almost like Kaz had turned himself into a ghost as well.

Holding his hand to get on the boat was an excuse to feel Kaz - alive, warm-blooded, firm flesh - and to further boast (to Emre's own inner demons) how good it felt to hold another man's hand like this. Kaz might not have liked it, but he was grudgingly conceded, and Emre adored him all the more for allowing it.

Emre didn't have a plan. He worked on his own instincts, heeding the tour guide about things called inlets and temperate rainforests and coniferous trees. Names of bays and towns that held some relevance to Kaz. Emre wished he could just look at Kaz through the boat ride, but bided his time instead.

He had this all in hand, when he jumped Feroze. The body pinned under Emre that was an uncomfortable, poorly made replication. But at least Feroze was cowed and ready to spill, and Kaz had control of the boat.

Until the bloody dolphins.

A momentary, perhaps childish distraction that earned Emre a boot to his chest. He stumbled right overboard, landing heavily on the thick, slick body of a dolphin and sliding right off. The wind knocked out of Emre; he wheezed scrabbling in the water. Sinking slightly but miraculously buoyed by a dolphin slipping underneath him.

The boat trundled on without him, and Emre gasped, "Kaz - Kaz!" but his throat was too hoarse, too rimed to be loud. The second dolphin seemed to take off after the boat, and through bleary eyes, Emre could see the little craft slowly turn around, back to him. It could be Kaz steering it, or it could be Feroze. The shape of the only man standing, was chillingly difficult to discern which one, until Kaz's features overwrote the rest.

Emre was dragged back onboard; when he turned to look back at the water, the dolphins had disappeared. Emre inhaled, flipping sopping hair back from his forehead as he surveyed the trussed up Feroze squirming on the boat's floor.

"You're bruised," Emre murmured to Kaz, perhaps inappropriately concerned in front of Feroze, but he didn't care about that. "Little bastard clocked you, ey?"

They'd trade Feroze on Whidbey Island. There had to be a reason. Emre agreed with all of it. "Why'd they send him after you," he added, then spat phlegm and sea water over the side of the boat. "Him, after you. Look at him, man. You see it too, right?" Yeah, Feroze would definitely make good trade.

As for the reason... "Bruv if you think I'm dropping you and little mans off on Whidbey and taking my sorry arse back to the mainland, then you've already forgotten what you've written down, yeah?" Emre patted his own stomach. An impulsive, rough kiss on Kaz's long mouth, before he turned to look at the approaching inlet. "That Whidbey, then? Fucking hell...I lost my cutlass in the water." Emre still had his backpack with some sundries, but no weapon.

He straddled Feroze, to search the young man for anything hidden. Emre asked Kaz, "What've you got?" They had to be prepared for whatever was waiting for them.

[kazxraval]

"All of it is your fault," Kaz concluded like a fact which didn't require too much explaining. "Trying to concentrate but oh, the things I'd do to you on those desks over there. Get those legs resting on my shoulders." With a salacious open-mouthed smile and hands on his chest. "Like I'm being edged into oblivion over here. I see what this is about."

Beyond careless as it was, Kaz couldn't resist. Just like he couldn't resist the sudden jump in his groin that matched the twitch of muscle under the marker's tip. "Property of-- goes on your ass." Brain turned into mush as they goofed, and yet his thoughts rang so clearly about Emre.

Not much time passed before they moved hurriedly on the downtown streets with walking companions they never asked for. Calling Ali a bitch snapped one of Feroze's smiles on Emre. More predatory than friendly. 'He speaks, ah?' The smile turned stagnant with Emre's retort. A comeback swam in Feroze's eyes, regarding tiny dicks no doubt. All he returned was a dull, "Funny."

On the waterfront, they paused. Kaz felt Emre's eyes on him. Probably because he dreamed about those eyes, searched for them around the island, sometimes waited for the lids to open and shine on after a long sleep. Knew better than to invest too much in them and yet wanted to, chose to.

A blink, a thin tug at the edge of his mouth. A match strike millisecond of tightness between the brows. The eardrum bursting blast of the walkie-talkies interrupted his thoughts. The teleporters kept them secure. Protected, if in a far off way, or even a falsely determined manner. In the middle of all the boats and as they allowed themselves to be led, the island could pull them right back in an instant. That was how Kaz explained to his own mind why he kept going. Emre reached out a hand that Kaz frowned at (what the fuck, he didn't need help??). He accepted anyway. And it dawned on him that Emre knew absolutely nothing that was going on in his head then. But when could he say anything?

Feroze took the sight in, as his eyes lingered on the two together for a few seconds more. Then a broad and practiced smile. 'I will make sure to point out everything you need to see, Emre,' he said in English, before adding in Gujarati: 'Friend.'

The man played the game he designed. A syrupy fabrication of a personal guide as they navigated through Puget Sound. Feroze pointed to the shores that sandwiched the boat. To mountains, to inlets, to the natural beauty around them.

Kaz wasn't prepared for Emre to spring up, a wild Jack-in-the-Box on attack. Feroze didn't look prepared either. As Emre held them down, Feroze's face twisted into one of unexpected anger, of spite caught off guard. Kaz jumped to the rudder to take control, as Emre said. A few seconds of a pause. What the hell was on Whidbey? But then he began to steer the little boat into the slosh of a wave and towards the easterly shoreline.

Meanwhile, spittle flew from Feroze's gritted teeth. Puffed and strained, a constant squirm under Emre as he seemed to impatiently wait his turn to speak, to answer.

Before Feroze could lay it all out, Emre straightened up to look out at the water. "Emre?" Kaz asked?

Is that dolphins?

Feroze took advantage of Emre's astonishment to snap up and around. He leaned back into the side of the boat and kicked Emre overboard with two feet.

"Emre!"

Then, he launched himself towards Kaz. With no hands on the rudder, the engine cut off. A see-sawing began between the two men in the boat as it rocked in the ocean directionless. Ferzoe gained ground with a punch that knocked Kaz back, and leapt on top to hold him down. Kaz fought to push back, hands firmly choked on Feroze's neck. The sudden spurred fighting continued and the harder they tried to take each other down, the more the boat rolled with the threat of tipping over.

"Emre!!" A dull clunk of Feroze's head sounded as it hit the floor of the boat. He wasn't completely out of it. But dazed enough for Kaz to grab one of the ropes used to tether the craft at a pier. Quickly, he flipped Feroze over and began to wrap and knot the guy's hands together.

And then Kaz stood up and shouted. "Emre! I'm coming for you, okay?" He didn't pass Feroze curled up on the bottom of the boat without a swift kick to the ribs. Kaz hopped over to the engine to restart it and turn around to get Emre out of the water.

Once Emre was in the boat again, Kaz seemed to know the direction to go. "You know what we're trading on Whidbey? Him." He nodded to Feroze. A pause. "There has to be a reason. There's gotta be, you know." Why else had all this happened in the first place? Why was it so important to know their names and get them there? "And I want you to come with me."

Kaz's fingers, lean and strong against Emre's pressure points. For a hot second, he wished they were back home, and not just for safety's sake (and since when was Emre so concerned about his own safety?) but just for a dark, soft moment with Kaz. Holed up in his silly little dormitory pod, or luxuriating under the stars in Kaz's spacious grotto. Kaz's fingers working pressure points, slow and measured, encouraging in all the ways that Emre --

Focus! For fuck's sake you horny twat. Focus.

"How is your fine and smackable arse my fault," Emre pretended to be offended. "Maybe work on being less peng." A grunt of agreement as Kaz pointed out that quiet was key for escape. And the rush of bubbly, hot-blooded pleasure that washed through Emre, not just as Kaz swiftly recreated the tattoo on Emre with ease, but Kaz's look. A look so addictive to Emre, because Kaz had used it before, many times. Admiration. Respect. Fondness.

Emre was so caught up in his sweetly knotted thoughts, he only protested belatedly as Kaz swiftly made cold-marker strokes on his belly. Raising his t-shirt, it was an easy - and thrilling - read. "Might as well just write 'property of' while you're at it!" Emre half-yelled, barely able to contain his boyish glee. He suppressed his own mouth against Kaz's, fervent nuzzles and secret laughs, so giddy that he barely processed that Kaz chose not to brand himself, which Emre (in his right mind) would've protested to. What even was this? Emre had always differentiated between 'work' and 'play'. Kaz was scribbling over that firm line as easily as he scribbled on Emre himself.

Fortunately, Emre oh-so helpfully botched their escalation with chat of Priti. And Kaz returned to his tightly contained slate, cool and impenetrable. Emre could feel the frizzle of frustration surrounding Kaz like hot static; but they'd have to address that later.

The escape. As they walked out of the parking lot, Emre turned to glance up at the third floor windows of the sky scraper, trying to discern if anyone got through Kaz and Emre's barricade. Anyone peering out at them now. No shouting or hailing to Feroze. But did Emre spot movement? Someone just watching from the window, but letting Kaz and Emre stroll away into whatever fucking trap this fucking mini-Kaz had planned?

Gujarati was used; and sleek, clever Kaz denied Emre's understanding. In truth, it was rough; Emre had to translate and he caught more implications than direct meanings.

Ali, all childish absurdity, made a pantomime of what he'd spied from his little ceiling nest. Emre took a swipe at Ali. "Tum chutiya ho," he spat, and yet. And yet. Something about Ali taking the piss out of them, the fake-hugging and brazen imitations. That was what Emre sounded like, with Kaz? All kissies and 'luvs'. And Emre realized that despite Ali's silly act, he wasn't feeling humiliated. It wasn't shameful to be spied on. Fucking hell; it wasn't shameful at all.

Emre scoffed suddenly, smirking. "Little pervert, give you a bit of wanking material for you tonight ey? Careful you don't rub out that already tiny dick." He met Feroze's eyes, and then gave him a cheeky, antagonistic wink. As if the 'pervert' comment was aimed at him, and not his little brother.

Ali ran and took all the fun out of it, but for the better. Emre needed to concentrate, as they stepped out to the water. Crumbled docks and a bustling, thriving marketplace of sorts. Emre was fascinated at the sheer amount of boats, and people. Feroze returned to the role of friendly tour guide; and Emre couldn't even switch to another language, to whisper to Kaz. Who knew what else Feroze spoke.

But he did look up at Kaz, to gauge the other man's response, any reaction to the change in his hometown. Kaz was always a hard read, but Emre felt like he knew some of the subtle, minute tics, by now.

The walkie-talkie was unnerving. The mention of a whole other island they had to apparently sail to, was equally unnerving. The fact that Feroze didn't demand Emre disarm, made it clear that Feroze was perfectly comfortable, had nothing to fear from them. And then using their names - calling them by fucking name. Sure, the information could've been provided by Ali the little spy, but. Emre hated it, hated this fake friendliness. He knew Kaz did too; he didn't have to guess at that.

He wondered though, why Kaz was going along with all of this. The rage Kaz had imparted on Ali when it was just the kid, now tempered to a tense compliance with Feroze. All after seeing Priti. Was there a morbid, angry curiousity in Kaz, after all? Or was this some form of protection? If Emre had attacked Feroze and Ali in the streets, maybe there were other spies, watching. Waiting for Kaz and Emre to harm the brothers.

So, onto the boat. Kaz was a strong swimmer, and Emre got his practice on the island for the last three years. Emre climbed in, helped Kaz (made a show of reaching for Kaz, in fact. A showy show of physical contact between them, fuck everyone else). "A tour would be lovely, mate," Emre said, settling in.

They got out into the water, and once Emre believed the other boats were far enough away from their little motorboat, he lurched over to Feroze, pinned him against the ship's stern. "Kaz! Grab the rudder."

Emre gave Feroze a hard shake to disorient him. "It's fine, yeah? Wave caught the boat a bit, but Kazzy'll get us back on track to Whiddey-whatev Island. And you can start the tour by telling me what the fuck is going on, ey? There's no trade, is there. Look at us - we didn't come with any bloody trade. So who the fuck do you work for, hm? Tell me her name, and I won't slit your throat and throw you overboard, you smarmy little prick. I'm tired of your game...your...bloody hell."

Emre looked over the lip of the boat, out into the water. Two thick, blue-grey bodies breached the water, dorsal fins high and shiny as one beast blew water out its blowhole. The other circled around the first, and poked a long-beaked face out of the water. A laughing chitter, as if to greet Feroze's boat.

"Is that. Is that dolphins?" Emre demanded, voice cracking in a high-pitched wonder and amazement.

[kazxraval]

Ziplines and other entries into buildings of only a few floors not necessary. "Yeah. Smart thinking." Fingers ran through an unruly patch of Emre's curls and for a split second Kaz smiled. "When we get down to the street, we should look for other shortcuts they've added to this place." They-- whoever utilized the tallest buildings and still called Seattle home.

Kaz laughed, short and gruff. "Distract? You're the one distracting, grabbing my ass every five seconds." Clearly Kaz didn't mind. "Yeah, I figure you'll have an easy time getting through this window. I don't want to knock out more of the glass to get through. In case they--" he hooked a thumb back to the doors --"got people waiting down on the ground. Don't want them to hear anything but until we're out and hauling ass outta here. And think I found another one I can use."

Kaz watched Emre searched through his backpack with a furrowed brow. "Uhm. Could be a gang? Maybe there are more people here than we think, and it's a way to keep up with who aligns with who? Dunno." His expression relaxed into one of marvel when the Sharpie appeared. Kaz's heart ran fast in his chest. A different smile appeared, longer lasting. Fuzzy around the corners like the admiration he felt then. No, a fondness, one that buzzed around his brain before it washed down his spine.

"You're brilliant. You know that?" Kaz turned Emre's wrist up and held it. He took the cap of the Sharpie off with his teeth and spat it out. Kaz began to draw what he remembered of the pattern over Emre's already blue inked skin. Diligently, quickly he drew. At the end, he bent down and lifted Emre's shirt, and before a sound could be made he wrote 'KAZ' in big fast letters on Emre's belly, with a small 'x' beneath. "There," and Kaz looked pleased with himself. Cap retrieved, and the Sharpie went into his own backpack. "If we end up needing it, I'll do my own."

Let's go there. Sealed between them, close enough to nudge noses and try yo bury into each other's skin, with an affection not known before and not one Kaz was willing to give up any time soon. The spell was broken when Kaz had to explain Priti. He didn't hate her so much as he resented the unwillingness to only give him the coldest part of herself. To explain it to someone who enshrined their parents behind the clearest glass, even as Urmilla's past was murky as hell, was too difficult then.

Why couldn't Emre just get it? Breathe it in like a long hookah drag, hold it in his lungs, let it settle? The heat in Kaz's ears and around his neck temporarily kept him from hearing anything. Emre reaching for a wrist extinguished some of the fire. Kaz stayed quiet. They needed to move. Avoid Priti, not waste the time to talk about her. And he couldn't help but crack a smile as they parted. You bring out the murder in mums, my luv.

Kaz did not anticipate a smooth departure. Ali's mouth held a mean little line. Feroze strolled along too casual, too airy. He felt how close Emre stuck to him, and if Kaz could will the teleporter to take them back, he would.

Kaz always thought Emre easily talked to others, but it bothered to hear the chat with Ali. The little boy verbally thumbed his nose back.

You know what I'm saying? The skin on the back of his neck prickled. "I know," Kaz returned in Gujarati. Ali's staccato giggle pinged around the street they moved down. Kaz gave the kid his deepest frown as Ali doubled over to laugh, continuing to walk.

'Your friend. He does not speak it?' Feroze continued, walking next to Ali and shooting another look over his shoulder.

Kaz again answered in Gujarati without a look to Emre. Some tug in his gut said to lie. "He does not. Why do you ask this question?"

Ali halted a step to force Emre to either run into him from behind or skid to a halt to prevent a crash. The childish laugh that followed almost sent Kaz through the roof. Ali turned to Feroze, and brought the conversation back to English. 'I told you what I saw!' Ali wrapped his arms around himself. The thin boy began to wiggle around, his eyes closed, his lips pursed with a few wet kissing sounds. A child's attempt to harrass. 'Course luv. Luv. My luv.' An overacted (and poorly delivered) imitation of Emre's accent. 'K-I-S-S-I-'

Feroze pulled Ali over mid-chime by the sleeve of his shirt, and then locked an arm tighter around the kid's shoulders. He slowed to a stop. 'You are being a very rude boy. Ali. This is not funny, tell them you're sorry.'

They were near the waterfront now, where a long line of buildings stretched out. What used to be open air markets and shops, with a glimpse in between of the ocean. Ali's face contorted into something stormy, and his brown eyes burned with a new type of contempt at everyone, but particularly Feroze. 'I won't say it!' Ali yelled as he spiraled out of Feroze's hold, almost tearing his shirt. His feet slapped heavy as he darted between two buildings towards the water.

Feroze gave them a plasticine smile. 'Kids,' was his shrug of a comment, as though Ali's tantrum was an every day occurrence, not to be bothered by. 'You want to trade, right? Come, let me show you what you need to do.'

The man led them between the same buildings Ali dashed through. On the other side, the view opened to the port they spied earlier when up on the roof. A variety of boats were docked at piers, while more floated further out in the water.

Feroze pulled a walkie talkie from a rucksack. He opened a channel and spoke. 'I've got two who want to trade. Permission to bring them over.' Static erupted from the device. Seconds passed. A loud buh-leep and a garbled voice asked for a name. Once Feroze provided his, the person on the other end gave an ok.

'This is us,' Feroze led them over to a small fishing boat, presumably the way to get to where they were going. 'Trades happen on Whidbey Island. Ever been, Kaz?'

Kaz. They hadn't given Feroze their names, had they? "Probably. When I was a kid. How do you know my name?"

He climbed on board and cranked the engine. Another congenial smile. 'Ali told me. He heard you two talking. Kids are nosy, aren't they?' Feroze looked between them. 'Come on. You're going to like what you find out there. You won't be disappointed. Say, Emre. Ever been to Seattle before? We don't have a long trip but I can point out some things along the way.'

"Seems the mechanisms all centralized, erm. Localized? Around here -" Emre poked his head out of the broken window carefully, trying to look around outside to find more around the buildings, but without much success. Still, he stuck to his theory - maybe because it was true, and maybe because he wanted to placate his agitated Kaz, who seemed pissed for his oversight. "I reckon all these clever little lifts and ziplines is only in this skyscraper area, yeah. None where we was teleported to." A simple reason for that: "Shorter buildings."

Emre nodded with a quick smile of agreement at Kaz, adding, "Slick if it works." A confident nod as Kaz envisioned Emre on the building's ledge outside. "Sure I can. Just don't distract me with any of your wiggling or looks, yeah. Pull a stiffy on that ledge and it'd push me right off. What - you got a different way to reaching the pulley yourself?" Maybe the broken window was too risky for Kaz's longer build.

He mentioned the tattoo and Emre frowned, rubbing at his own wrist. "Might just be a tattoo. You reckon it's something more. A gang tat or that? Here - " Emre unsaddled his backpack, rummaging around until he found a sharpie. He pressed it into Kaz's hand. "Keep that, try recreating the tat, yeah? Might come in handy." If it worked. Fake tattoos on themselves, drawn with a Sharpie. Would anyone here fall for that, if they were inspected? "All we've got to do is survive."

Emre had no intention of splitting up, but sometimes needs must. Still - Kaz's firm refusal of even considering the possibility was just...Emre sighed. Not exhale, not huffed. But truly sighed, like a lovestruck kid. "My darling," Emre demurred under the cushiony warmth of Kaz's kiss to his hand. An additional feral nuzzle between them, as Emre squeezed Kaz's hand. "Yeah. If we can get to the courthouses, right? Let's go there." A snorty laugh. "Never thought I'd voluntarily go to courthouses."

The soft warmth gave way to cold marble, possessing Kaz from his opaque, implacable gaze (one that looked through Emre, like Kaz was eon's away, boring fiery holes into memories and wishing they'd burn the present-day alive) to the way his entire frame seemed to still. Not stiffen, not freeze. But still. It was frightening, the immediacy of this reaction at the shock of seeing, of all people, Kaz's mother. And she was no hapless survivor or moaning victim. Apparently Priti was now some kind of leader, shouting to her people, taking head of the charge.

But that wasn't the point, was it? Emre realized that to Kaz, it didn't matter if Priti had transformed or even was alive. She was the opposition and even Kaz's irrepressible curiousity couldn't compete with that level of pain. Perhaps not an enemy; that might validate Priti's existence in Kaz's periphery too much. Give her too much importance. It was still hard to understand for Emre; but in a way that it simply broke his heart, to see this. Another missed opportunity; similar to Kaz's inexorable unwillingness to engage with the ghost of dear little Ani. But Emre remembered what Melody had whispered to him, before she disappeared forever. 'You don't have to understand or even agree, babes. You've just got to love him."

Emre remembered that he could do this, too. He'd done it for Iyaz, after Iyaz came out. Took Emre a good year to adjust, let some control over his brother go. But Emre did, and Iyaz forgave him for it. He wouldn't make Kaz wait a year.

"You never had a mother," Emre said, with a slight kiss of his teeth. He grasped for Kaz again, hands wrapped around Kaz's cool wrist. "Yeah. You're right. That woman innt nothing. We'll go and you'll never have to see her again, yeah. And she don't got no right to ever see you. Fuck her."

Granted, the revenge could've been sweet, Emre liked to imagine. Priti's face gawping, to see her magnificent eldest, so strong and healthy and perfect, and perfectly fine without her. If she was to be hated, then she should suffer for missing out on Kaz. But Emre liked petty types of spite and revenge a bit more than Kaz. He'd mention it to Kaz, but later when things weren't this tightly wound and escape more imperative.

Emre stayed quiet, mulling over the possibility of Priti being so hideously cruel, to let someone kill her own son. Granted, look what happened when Urmilla reunited with Kaz, only a few months back. Literally Kaz was almost killed, right in front of her. "You bring out the murder in mums, my luv," Emre called out to Kaz, who exited his own way, as Emre exited through the window.

Traveling outside the building was less difficult than Emre expected. He was too old for this shit but...it was pretty fun too. Reliving his youth and all. Emre hopped down and reached to Kaz in the loading bay, but Kaz already got him first, to warn him to hush. Emre peered down the overgrown street and saw...what looked like he could be Kaz's little cousin, really. Emre blinked, looking up at Kaz to see if he thought the same thing. Granted, Kaz's face was at resting default - giving away as much as a blank sheet of paper at the sight of the two kids.

'Whoa, hey. Hi.'

Fucking hell, they even sounded the same. Well, Kaz was generally less pleasant, but that was just Kaz. Who responded to Feroze's rather leading question - a hint or a trap? Emre couldn't tell, but he kept his eyes on Ali. Little Ali, who Emre and Kaz had beaten up. It felt a little shameful now; two grown men whaling on a little screaming boy. And now the boy was silent, obedient to Feroze's squeezing hand on his scrawny shoulder.

"What about your mummy, Ali?" Emre couldn't help but ask, sticking as close to Kaz as possible as they followed. His one hand hovered near Kaz's, like he wanted to hold hands but didn't just yet. His cutlass on his belt harness, ready to pull by his other hand. Emre eyed around them, searching deliberately now for shadows and peering faces in this strange city. "You was crying for her, not your elder. How'd you get down here so fast?"

'Why do you talk like that?' Ali piped up, his squint at Emre both judgey and insouciant. 'You sound dumb.'

'Hey, be good,' Feroze chided Ali, but in Gujarati. He glanced over his shoulder at Emre, but lingered more on Kaz. 'You know what I'm saying?'

[kazxraval]

The action rose through the building like mercury in a thermometer. Hot kisses in the middle before the fever pushed into more dangerous territory on the rooftop. Interactions with strangers outside the island typically ended poorly, and Kaz needed to keep them guarded. They were not from Seattle or part of the apocalyptic landscape. They did not have the same mark as the kid did, nor did they know if they were at a disadvantage because of it. 

Kaz mistakenly assumed Emre knew the reason why they needed to bolt rather than hunker down in the building. (As for the kid, Kaz wondered what her connection might be to him. And if leaving the child in a crumpled stain on the concrete below would hurt her.) Regardless– the two found a balance. He’d be worried if they no longer could. 

The exits were blocked to slow down any search parties that were sent their way. Emre made keen observations. Kaz paused. When they landed in the city, he’d only looked up to make sure no one had a visible eye or weapon trained on them. “I didn’t notice anything. Fuck, didn’t even see the zipline between these buildings either. You’re right though. They’ve got to have more than one way up here.” A faster way, and thankfully Emre brought it up.

Kaz intently watched as Emre examined their surroundings, including out the window. He tried to return the slap to the ass that made him feel so good, but something caught Emre’s eye. He stepped so quick that Kaz managed just to swipe at the side of a hip. “What is it?” Kaz craned out to see the edge of the building and another pulley system that lead down to the ground. “It’s slick, hm?” His head turned up to see where it attached, like a lean tendon insertion point on a bone. Or was the vertical pulley the connective tissue between the bones of the city and the muscle who ran it? 

The partially broken window was closest to the edge of the building. Not a lot of room to get through, to reach the ledge. But it did have some structural design outside of it to hang on to. A bigger opening might be found around the corner, but would mean they’d have to spend much more time crawling around the outside of a tall building to get to it. 

“It’s not parkour but can you get your cute little ass out that window? And climb around like fucking Spiderman?” They didn’t have a lot of options. “Emre… the tattoo? On the kid. Looked like leopard spots or something. What d’ya think about it? I’ve never seen anything that looked like it.”

At another spot in the sprawling office space, Kaz stood quiet while Emre soaked up the old courthouse. Regarded it wordlessly. Whatever feelings felt weren't shared. Kaz clasped the hand on his chest and brought it up to kiss at a knuckle. But then he frowned. “We’re not going to get split up, Emre.” Illogical. Em might even say barmy. Kaz spoke it into existence: they wouldn’t need to meet in the building. His brows relaxed as he rephrased. “We can go there, if you want to see it.” 

There was more of a plan for getting out of the building than for what came out of his mouth. Old family secrets that had been shoved into the furthest unreachable corners of himself were now exposed to this man (among other things). But he expected a little understanding over seeing a woman he purposefully cut completely out of his life. 

Would she recognize him? As much as her shape and shadow was packed by an inherited apathy, he’d fucking hope so? Kaz tensed. “Is she my mother.” Was she a mother, a better way to state it. Don't sound like the woman you'd described to me… those words burrowed well under the skin. 

Kaz could do no more in the moment than grit his teeth. Because footsteps outside made him duck behind a column. Then, the shake of a door that wouldn’t budge in its frame, a grunt of a frustrated shoulder that tried to push the door open. A buzzed electronic blip of a walkie talkie activated and mumbled voices. Clodding feet that faded away as they continued to move up the stairwell. 

The time frame to leave the building had just been slashed from hours to minutes. Kaz searched for a wider opening in a window with more urgency. And tried not snap at Emre. Would she kill him? “I’m not a part of it anymore. Not a part of her. Never was to begin with.” He angrily tugged on a poorly nailed 2x4 over another window. As imagined, Kaz would have to take the long way around to the pulley.

"She might stand there and let someone kill me, I dunno." Kaz wanted to hurl the piece of wood, but chose to set it down gently. 

His chin lifted. “I can climb out on this side." So used to taking the long way round, he didn't mind. While the smaller opening closest to the pully was fit for Emre. "We’ll meet in the middle. Come on, let’s get the fuck out of here.” 

The wind whipped around the building, colder than on the ground and with a harsher slant to it. The finally made it down to the loading dock, with Kaz having taken longer to navigate his way there.

They weren't in the loading area long before Kaz reached for Emre, to gain his attention. "It's that fucking kid again. With someone else." Sure enough, the kid already pointed them out to the man who walked with them.

'Whoa, hey. Hi.' Tall, brown, fabulous head of hair and well-groomed beard. Possibly a chest rug that would make someone envious? He held up his hands. 'I'm Feroze. This is my little brother, Ali.' Ali's little features twisted and squinted, a mockery of a minor threat, but he kept his mouth quiet.

'He said two guys got onto him and... honestly, he's not supposed to be in that building. For obvious reasons. It's falling apart, too many places to get hurt.' Feroze placed a hand on little Ali and squeezed.

'So, I know you two have to be lost. The market is that way.' Feroze pointed in the direction he came from. 'On the waterfront. That's where all the goods are traded.' The man paused as his gaze jumped between Kaz and Emre to read them. 'That is why you're here, right?'

Kaz cast a quick look to Emre. "Yeah. Guess we got mixed up. Take us there?"

Kaz heard a tease, and who was Emre to dissuade him when Kaz shot back like that, a soft susurrus between a delightful curve of his lips? Emre instinctively bared his own teeth back, the familiarity of banter a beacon between them.

Which led (inevitably) to more teasing, heated and fleshy this time. A husky 'ah' of pleasure when Kaz's fingers tightened in Emre's hair, the heady, impractical temptation to get his clothes off, feel more skin, do more things that forgot the world around them. "Good. You should always be hungry around me, yeah."

How did an entire city become a distraction, while the man with Emre was his primary focus? But the city did distract, alarming and heightened enough to pack away any horny needs until later. And there would be a later; Emre's desire didn't fade, it was just penned back.

For now it was up the stairs after a wriggly little, then the somewhat terrifying sight of the boats clustered in the bay, like they were ready to invade. Then people on the other rooftop - people who pitched Kaz into an even heightened alarm. Emre could feel it, palpable but pinned tight to Kaz, as they raced down the stairwell again.

"Leave the little bugger," Emre huffed, slightly surprised by Kaz's vivid description of the kid's possible death at their hands. Kaz had once said he'd never killed before, hadn't he? Not deliberately, perhaps. Not with intent. And Emre would change that; Emre had promised Kaz. He would make sure, Kaz got a opportunity to kill. But not now, not with a child being Kaz's first.

Multiple points assuaged Emre's thoughts as they scampered down. The tattoo on the boy's wrist, clearly a stick-and-poke style (it's not rocket science...) making a deliberate design. 'Gang-tagging' was Emre's immediate assumption; easy physical codes to mark people along some grouping or hierarchy.

And the shouts from the other rooftop. It wasn't English. It was a woman, too. The mother of the boy? What could possibly be so jarring to Kaz, that he wanted to rabbit immediately?

They paused, three floors from the ground floor, and Emre nodded at Kaz's suggestion. Wait out the night; they could do that. They brought enough supplies and they were smart. Once they were inside the office space, Emre dragged some old furniture over to the stairwell exit door, a makeshift blockade and/or alarm system should anyone try to alight on their floor.

He listened and frowned at another piece of the puzzle. "Stay off the streets...easy way to travel from one building to another, with the lifts out of service. But zip lines can only go down or across innit. What if they wanted to go up?" Did these people slog up stairwells every time, or did they fashion together some quicker way to ascend the skyscrapers?

And the boats in the bay, how were they connected? Perhaps some people - like the kid - chose to stay off the streets for a reason other than convenience. What if they were in the middle of some ongoing gang-style beef, between building-hoppers and boat people?

Emre and Kaz had teleported on the streets, walked to this building along the ruined ashphalt. They hadn't encountered anything on the trip here, but...? Nah. Emre would've known if they were being watched, or followed from their arrival. Kaz would too, most likely. No; their arrival had gone unnoticed and it was the child who caused the ruckus.

Kaz's warm, steady hand in Emre's pulled him out of his thoughts, to look around. Kaz guided them to the edge, peering out over the loading dock. Emre scanned the area, then tilted out the busted window too, to check along the side of the building itself.

A huffing snort of amusement. Emre twisted his hand in Kaz's to smack Kaz's arse. "You can keep my knees well-oiled bruv, but my parkour days are long over. But mate - check over there--" Emre pointed to the corner edge of the building, where it looked like another pulley system was assembled on the outer face of the building. Only instead of horizontal like the zipline, it was vertical. "I reckon that's their version of a lift, yeah. We can crawl out onto the ledge and get to it, we can lower down to the loading dock and fuck off. No jumping needed."

The window they were looking out of was already broken; it would create noise to break it further, but maybe they could squirm out onto the building ledge....

Kaz bundled Emre to another aspect, pointing out one particular building. The precision Kaz used to describe it made Emre pay attention, waiting for Kaz dropped the reason. "Mum's...office." Emre repeated, leaning heavily into Kaz. Who remained as strong and unbreakable as that tall building in the distance. Emre stared at it silently for a moment, then looked up at Kaz, hand on Kaz's chest. "Right. We escape now; and if we get split up, that'll be our meet-up spot, yeah? Mum's office."

Kaz split from Emre to find a better way out than the poorly broken window; Emre remained there a bit longer, trying to imagine his mum in that random building. But he couldn't. Nothing about it felt remarkable. Nothing related back to Urmilla, for Emre. He started to say, "Kaz--"

And then Kaz dropped another reason, this time for running. Emre's throat went dry. "Your mum," he whispered back, staring at Kaz, who continued to rove between the desks and columns. "Your mum?? Would...would she recognize you? Would she know who you was? Kaz -" Emre hustled between the debris to reach Kaz, hold him in place. "That why you want to run? You - but you can't. You can't run. It's your mum innit. She was shouting in Gujarati, innit, shouting orders. Don't sound like the woman you'd described to me, when she was with Edward. Kaz, she's alive, she survived. Fucking hell, she's alive. If you're sure it's your mum, why the fuck are we running from her?"

Voices in the stairwell now, echoing too much to make out what was being said, but clearly it was orders and reports. The stairwell door rattled, shoved a little bit; but Emre's little blockade held for now. Of course it wouldn't take a genius to realize the blockade was man-made. The hunters would return.

Emre returned to the busted window, looking over to the loading dock, the parking lot beyond, the ledge outside leading to the pulley system. "We squeeze out here, shimmy down that pulley to the lot, and we be gone. If that's what you want. But if that's your mum, if you're sure then...do we really have to run? She..." Emre hated thinking it, but had to ask. "If - if she found you, you think she would kill you?"

[kazxraval]

THIS IS THE SECOND THING

KAZEM VAMPIRE AU FANART IS ANYONE SURPRISED

KSFJHSDFKJH a touche of IWTV thrown in because I COULDN'T RESIST and I just had fun with it and I hope it evokes all the AMAZING SMEXY GORGEOUSNESS OF YOUR OG KAZEM VAMPIRE AU AHHHHHHH I can't believe you're turning an age this year, a day after me. 🥹🥹🥹🥹🥹

I love us and our writing and our ideas and just EVERYTHING about writing together and imagining all the possibilities for these two mooks and their adventures in ALL THE PLACES. THANK YOU FOR BEING ALIVE. 💗💗💗💗💗 Hope you have a FANTASTIC day!!!!

[kazxraval]

[kazxraval]

Swet Shop Boys - Aaja (ft. Ali Sethi)

[kazxraval]

He understood the ‘you were much cooler than my brother’ was meant to gently poke fun. A sidelong look and rush of air between his teeth replied back. “Fuck off,” with teeth showing, because really he liked the banter. They needed to stay light on their toes and the harmless jabs served that purpose. Then the seductive slide of Emre’s kisses made him soft and hard, and forced Kaz to fight a flutter of lashes and the crack of a grin. “Bastard,” he softly chided with fingers dug deep in Emre’s hair, down to the scalp. “Aloo to your gobi– now you’re just making me hungry.” Not necessarily for food either. 

So Emre made his heart race in two different ways, the second time when Kaz chased after him and the boy. No way in hell he’d take his eyes off Emre, as long as there was the flash of the tail of a shirt or heel of the foot, the shine on the back of dark curls– Kaz would keep Emre in sight. 

He saw something else too as he gripped the bird-boned arms of a child. Like toothpicks or twigs, Kaz thought. He had the sudden urge to snap them in half. Listen to the musical howl of the boy’s pain streak across those rooftops.

The unexpected also caught his eye. And it wasn’t right at all. It wasn’t the boats packed in the harbor, but he addressed those first. “Yeah. I see ‘em.” His voice a whisper for Emre over the eerie image on the water.  Kaz thought of a nest of cobras. The flaired sails like the hoods of the those snakes. No fangs yet, as the ships hadn’t yet been alerted of this presence. Kaz and Emre, who cross parallels and even time to be in present day Seattle. 

The kid kept running his mouth, which left Kaz with no other choice but to clamp a hand over a small nose and mouth. Painfully tight, so the little price couldn’t shake loose and bite. Kaz’s palm felt hot and dry from the kid’s panic. Those thwarted attempts to breathe, a thin chest tense from empty and strained lungs. The kid clawed with one hand at Kaz’s arm as frantic brown eyes appealed to Emre for help. Meanwhile, Kaz lifted one of the child’s very breakable wrist. “Look, Emre. Look at this shit.” 

Ink punctuated across the young boy’s wrist. A tattoo, all pressed dots into the golden skin. The dots didn’t connect (similarly as the boats in the harbor weren’t tied to each other). These blips of black ink formed a shape of a circle. Inside was a smaller green circle, with more dots across the diameter… no, these looked like spots now. Dark rosettes with irregular borders, like a jaguar. His mind tried to sort out what it meant. While he debated whether or not he should point out to Emre the other thing he’d noticed. The person on the other roof. How recognizable she was, even older and with so many yards between them. She wasn’t that kid’s mother,, no fucking way. She showed more concern for this dumb ass brat running from them than she’d ever showed to him. If it was her, and…? Was it? 

A raw breach of pain from the thought of that woman tore his hands from the child, who instantly fell into juvenile retching sounds of mockery. Emre knocked them out before Kaz could, and his brows frowned in disappointment. “Let’s throw him off the roof. Leave him as a stain on the concrete. A message for anyone who tries to find us.” 

Acha. Kaz nodded, comforted by the slip out of English. As he ducked through the door, he heard a distant cry from the other rooftop. A feminine voice, the fullness of Gujarati but the sharp wind carried most of it in the other direction. Kaz thought he picked out a ‘DON’T!’. But he didn’t respond, in hopes that the way they took off from the rooftop would block the words from registering with Emre. If Kaz even heard anything at all. 

The foghorn brought on a sweat-induced flash of anxiety that Kaz hadn’t felt in ages. They gotta know something's up now. A hesitation from Kaz, then: “Yeah.” Of course Emre was right. He glanced at the door on the landing of the stairs as he listened. Was this how the trip was meant to be– the two fucking hiding for hours, days? As they listened to footsteps clunking up stairs and across the floors they were sandwiched between? 

“I don’t know if we can stay here that long.” Kaz’s account for the teleporters was as broke as Emre’s. They also thought there would be more time. This had been planned as fairly leisurely, after all. “But. Maybe we wait until dark. Maybe there is another way out of here.” He pointed upwards. “That zipline the kid tried to jump on? They probably have more of those, some kind of system to get around these buildings.To stay off the street, yeah?” Which begged the question why a system might be needed, other than to save time. Again, didn’t they have all the time at the end of the world? Emre’s touch registered on his arm, and he smiled. There was a pause before Kaz locked his hand into Emre’s. 

They entered another floor similarly gutted and scavenged as the last one. Kaz walked the perimeter to get their bearings once more. “Looks like a loading dock down there,” Kaz pointed out, as he stood by a busted window. He grasped the frame as the wind whipped through his hair, and craned out a little to look down.

“This is the east side of the building. So, if we can get down there, we could go deeper into the city. West side is where all those fuckers on boats are.” There was a parking lot. A couple of cars and motorbikes remained, but unlikely to have filled fuel tanks at this point. “We could climb down. It’s not far. Or you wanna complain about being old again? I know for a fact you can get down on your knees easy.” The grin on his face turned teasing. “Can’t be hurting too bad.” 

A fog horn sounded louder as they were by the open window. Kaz moved them along to another viewpoint. He slung an arm around Emre’s shoulders. With his other hand lifted, a long finger guided Emre’s gaze across the skyline. “See that building? Looks like a big fucking column.” Seattle didn’t have a lot of architectural gems as it relied too much on a giant ‘needle’ and mountains. The building he drew attention to would be boring anywhere. “The front there used to be all glass. Nothing but windows. When the sun comes out all the blinds opened.” He realized he spoke as if he’d last been there a month ago. “The sun reflects off the building and it’s blinding.” Nostalgia, maybe. Even if it didn’t feel that way.

“If you count from the top down, mm… 14 floors down, there.”  His index finger tapped the air, as if he could knock on the empty window from the distance. “The second office from the right. That was your mum’s office.” 

As he gave Emre the chance to study this space of Urmilla’s past, Kaz eyed the area for other ziplines, other means to get between those buildings. After a while, he made a noise. “Mm. Emre. I think I saw my mother.”

"Strong? Least I'm stopped from a heart attack innit." The praise from Kaz padded Emre's chest out with a tight, cottony warmth, a slithery thrill in his belly like he'd only ever felt when cumming. Nothing's gonna change that for me. The permanency of that statement - Emre gave Kaz a slow blink in what could only be described as awe, but his words stayed facetious. "My mans a wine drinker! Tings I'm learning about you, my darling. Oy yoy."

Kaz had 'coworkers', along with 'friends'. Emre knew better than to barrage him with more questions; but he was endlessly fascinated by this highly-social Kaz - with his carefully constructed circles of mates and acquaintances and contacts and all sorts. "Yeah okay, alright. You was much cooler than my brother."

Even the gentle observation about his friends brought a monotone reply. The vagueness a clear warning to Emre: stop asking, stop observing, just stop. Emre pressed his lips together, and just watched Kaz from behind, all long legs and bright, clear eyes. One man, with so many things going on at once - past, present. Emre selected the now, which had its own rewards.

Because Kaz's kisses were ravenous, but so thorough; this kind of exploration between them never clashed. Physical and pure, Emre without his hangups and Kaz without his reservations. Emre nosed along Kaz's face, the strong hinge of his jaw and slick dip of one tilted eye, Emre's kisses leaving a damp trail. "Good, because I like you. The aloo to your gobi, yeah."

If anything, the brief heat of intimacy gave Emre a clarity about the business at hand. At least, that's what Emre told himself as he charged up the stairwell two at a time, chasing the boy onto the rooftop like a dog after a rabbit. Why shouldn't he justify a little snog with his favourite Kazzyboy? Nothing could go wrong when they were together, nothing they couldn't handle. They'd both seen death together, multiple times in a myriad of horrific ways. Emre's confidence in them wasn't invincibility, that would be delusional. It was something that Emre couldn't quite place just yet, because he'd never felt it before.

Emre could hear Kaz's callouts like a telepathic echo; when he caught the boy's ankle and looked over his shoulder, there Kaz was, barrelling towards them without hesitation, and leaning for the boy. Taller and longer, Kaz managed to smack the kid into complacency, as Emre hauled him closer.

"Hold his arms! Slippery little cuss innt he," Emre grunted, pinning the scrawny legs. It must be terrifying for the kid, but Emre took cues from Kaz and his brutal determination.

Everyone in the bay. It took a moment for Emre to recall what a 'bay' was - like a land curve in the sea? - and as he knelt on the boy's legs, he poked up like a gopher, to peer over the lip of the roof, out to the water. Kaz did the same, and Emre's mouth dropped open. "You seeing what I'm seeing? All them bloody boats."

'Yeah! And they all know I'm here, and mom ain't gonna like you for keeping me here,' the boy spat, still trying to twist and squirm. Kaz's demand only made the boy wail with more warnings, and then holler for help.

And it worked, because it seemed the boy wasn't alone. The boats were a distance away in the bay, but the boy's people were already on-land, in the far building, it seemed. Emre nodded as Kaz relayed this, carefully spying the newcomers on the other rooftop. He saw movement through the rusty railing, shapes of others searching, but not much else.

And suddenly Kaz was ducked down again. "Oi..." Emre murmured, sensing a sudden charged static in the air between them. Kaz's new orders: get out, let the kid go(?!?!), run away. Escape, it sounded like, but Emre didn't see the trouble yet. Sure, the boat-people might be dangerous, but wasn't that the point of being here? Encountering danger, dealing with it. Emre didn't think Kaz came to Seattle, just expecting a gentle walking tour of his old city.

Emre almost protested, if it weren't for Kaz's final appeal. Trust me? Breathless, Emre nodded. "Yeah. Course, luv."

'Blechhhh,' the boy somehow managed to fake a heave at the special moment between Emre and Kaz. For that, Emre took a fistful of the boy's hair, and knocked his head on the roof, completely dazing the child.

"Buy us sometime before the yout raises the alarm again, yeah? Acha." Staying low, Emre scrambled back to the stairwell door, slowly opening it to let Kaz slip through, then himself.

Descent was always easier, Emre hopping multiple stairs quietly, always looking behind to check Kaz was with him. They reached the third floor landing, when a loud foghorn sounded in the distance, like a ferry honk. Not that Emre recognized it, but he knew what it could mean. "They gotta know something's up now. Mandem might be down on street-level," Emre surmised. Emre and Kaz wouldn't know until they reached the ground floor, the lobby's walls made of tempered glass. Emre paused, and looked up at Kaz, offering another gentle, tentative idea. "We could just hide out on one of these floors. How many of them is gonna search all these floors for us? That'll take time, yeah? And by then the teleports'll take us back."

Maybe. Hopefully. After the adventure with Urmilla and Theo and the Reclamators, all of Emre's credits were drained. And Emre was fairly sure Kaz didn't have enough to time an exit, either. They were at the mercy of the teleports, and that could mean spending minutes or days in Seattle. Which would've been fine if it was just a vacation, revisiting old haunts. Emre should've known better, after London.

"I've got enough supplies to last a couple days. What d'you reckon, luv." It was Kaz's city, his judgement call. His charged energy raising Emre's own arm hairs. Emre touched Kaz's arm, almost expecting an static shock. "Kaz..."

[kazxraval]

==

“Don’t you feel stronger now?” There was much to say, if he wanted. All about how the stretch from seventeen to twenty-seven was a gap the size of the Grand Canyon. The one between the following decades filled by great oceans now. But Emre didn’t know too much about those canyons, did he. “You’re a hot piece of ass as it is. Aged like fine wine. Nothing’s gonna change that for me.” His eyes fell around muscled arms and lean hips. The stubbled jaw with the baby fat sliced away by experience. Not frozen in celluloid (or acetate? What is film negative material called) like Kaz. 

To hear The Walking Dead come out of Emre’s mouth sounded jarring, especially as Kaz drew the line in his head on all that lost time. Suddenly, Kaz didn’t feel like a walking anachronism anymore. With a half-grin, he nodded. “I remember that. A lot of my co-workers were into the show. I only saw bits and pieces though.” Because his father found cable a frivolous expense, and oddly enough the idea stuck with Kaz. “I went to Halloween parties too,” he confirmed. “Those weren’t always on actual Halloween night.”

There was a pause and a glance in the direction of the windows, as if he might catch a glimpse of an old memory through the floor to ceiling panes. “I knew a lot of people back then, Emre. Yeah.” Not exactly how Emre worded it. There wasn’t much time to reminisce. If there had been, Kaz wouldn’t anyway.

When the dangerous open flame of a man climbed on top of Kaz, the background became blurry. He cupped Emre’s face for a needy open-mouthed kiss, kissed Emre liked he couldn’t be parted for a second. Not keeping score but suddenly patient and vulnerable as the position under this other person, in a way he never had been with anyone he fucked. When Kaz drew back for a breath he hummed low and slurred from Emre’s weight. “Mm. Maybe I like gobby.” 

That’s got its attention. “You’ve got its attention,” Kaz corrected the sentence immediately. The it being a thread-like little kid. Kaz pulled him out of the vent as easily as he would a hanger from a closet. Apt, as the child was as wiry as a hanger too. 

Scrawny, but not frail. And damn it, the kid was quick. Somehow Kaz held the utmost confidence that Emre would be the one to snatch the kid up by the collar. That nothing or no one could get by his Emre. So his mouth hung open at the sight, the audacity of the quicksilver little shit grinning as he slipped, barefoot and slick as butter, right out the door. 

The race commenced and they all hooked sharp turns, round and round and up flights of stairs. The cry of old door hinges and slam of a metal door was followed by Emre’s voice as it pinged off the concrete. A quick panic in Kaz’s chest– going up was too easy a way to get trapped. “Careful,” a somewhat useless warning as they both started the chase and neither seemed ready to give it up yet. "Right behind you." Emre would bail if an ambush set off his spidey senses, wouldn’t he? Kaz believed so. 

It was his turn to huff and puff while climbing the stairs. Emre called his name, and Kaz pushed on to catch up. By the time he reached the edge of the building, the kid held on to a zip line for dear life as Emre caught the boy's ankle.

Kaz surged forward. He leaned over the side of the roof to pry little hands from a pulley. The kid now fought off both attackers, and if Kaz hadn’t been paying attention the boy’s attempted bite would’ve been successful. Kaz retaliated with a smack to the face– awkwardly angled, considering their positions, but the boy yelped in pain and one hand slipped from the zip line rope. 

“Not going anywhere now, you little shit! LET. GO.” 

‘N’ah I– fuck you! Fuck both of you!’ The child choked out the words with a sob.

Kaz grasped the back of the boy’s collar and cranked the fabric tight to the neck. As the kid instinctively let loose of the pulley to grab at the tshirt yolked at his throat, Kaz began to haul him in, with Emre’s help, to wrestle the boy to the ground. 

‘You aren’t from here. You’d know. Mess with me and everyone in the bay comes for you.' The bay? Kaz’s angry expression dropped as his skin prickled. The focus had been the old courthouse and other haunts of Urmilla’s. Not the water, which had been obscured from the ground as well as the lower floors of the building. 

“Fucking hell... What is this.” Kaz had turned to see the water dotted by small boats. Recreational, touristy, others presumably old fishing rigs. All of them in a formation anchored around each other like an amateur armada. Kaz’s anger flared again, with a point over the shoulder and eyes wild and locked on the kid. “You deaf? The fuck is all that out there?” 

The boy began to whine, dramatic and flailing, with loud shaky gasps. His tearless appeal directed at Emre, his dry little hands digging into Emre's skin. ‘Please, my mom’s waiting on me! She’ll be worried if I don’t get back. They’ll send the rest out for you, you won’t like it.’ He sucked in a deep lungful and then shouted. ‘Help! Someone help me, they got me, help!’ 

The sound of a door opening was heard. Kaz dropped down beside Emre and the kid, ahd he covered the boy’s mouth. He leaned close to whisper in Emre’s ear. “The next building, where the zip line is tied? Someone opened the door…” The door to the other rooftop. Kaz waited and listened. Silence. No movement, no call out to answer the boy’s shouts. The rope to the zipline swung in the breeze, but stayed put. 

After a long moment of quiet, Kaz craned his head up to peer at the building next door. After several seconds, Kaz sank down again. Heavier, while he tried not to let a sudden shock haunt his mostly furious expression. "We gotta get out of here," he whispered, and the grip on the kid they held down grew harsher. "I've got him. You get to the door and I'll let him go. I'll be behind you again, ok? We need to get to out of this fucking place. Down to the street." No explanation on why they should take the different direction, so he added. "Trust me?"

Out curiousity in the Tower, Emre had sought out feeds on Seattle; but it was just like, well, watching it on TV. Experiencing it was entirely different. Emre hadn't been back to London since his and Kaz's little cage-match caper all those months ago; he felt like he'd seen enough. Perhaps seeing Seattle once would be enough to Kaz, or...? Maybe they'd return, again and again.

Inexplicably, Emre hoped for the latter.

A snorty laugh at Kaz's cheeky innuendo. "In years yeah, but not physically. You're in that forever-27 body, bruv." And the hot appreciation dripped from Emre's tone. "I'll have you know I was prime halal premium beef when I was 27 too."

In truth Emre hadn't watched many zombie flicks, so he just shook his head, ignorant of Kaz's selection. "Yaz adored that erm, show? Walking Dead or that. Full-on nerd that lad." A slight smile as Kaz revealed a bit of anorak himself. "Really. American Halloween night and Kazzy needed to watch a film? I imagined you'd be out on them Seattle streets, fully clobbered and shagging all sorts in fancy dress."

Emre's fantasies switched, imagining a Kaz ensconced between his fit mates on a ratty couch in front of a telly, passing around a fat bowl inbetween casual snogs. "You had loads mates here, didn't you." Here, as in Seattle.

The sound of a revving engine from Emre's throat, at the enticing mention of hoarded sneakers, like it could actually be a possibility. Of course, it wasn't. But Emre still made the most of the tattered office space, his focus on Kaz.

It wasn't normal for Emre to mix business and pleasure, in his old life. Business was all mission and tasks, harsh pressures, enjoyably unenjoyable; Emre stayed focused. Whereas allocated time for pleasure turned him softer and malleable - with his brother or with a girl, or alone even. But with Kaz, it all seemed to blend - or crash - together. Kaz was pleasure; the sheer sight of him, prowling so elegantly, his cheeky banter, Emre's urge to stay close to him, do everything for him. But they were also working, and Emre had to stay focused.

Finding that balance when working with Kaz had been tricky in the past, if Emre was honest. Sometimes they operated brilliantly; other times, he felt he'd let Kaz down somehow. His own hang-ups, no doubt.

With Kaz sprawled in an office chair, Emre couldn't resist; and neither could Kaz, it seemed. They pressed closer together, Emre relishing the kiss in a place that wasn't Panopticon. "Cheeky prick, eh?" Emre's turn to act innocent, between dotted, soft-tongued kisses. "Who could you possibly want to call gobby, darling?"

Sudden noise above. Business! Focus on the mission. Animals in the pipes seemed likely too; Emre was far less concerned than Kaz. Or rather, Emre was fairly confident they could handle anything together. And also, Emre was never much for treading lightly. His tendency was to force situations, better sooner than later.

Kaz tensed fully when Emre hollered, and Emre shrugged in a broad, macho way at Kaz's more cautious, level-headed hiss. "That's got its attention innit," Emre said, like this was a good thing.

The sounds from above like running, bipedal even. A human? Or maybe a robot off its rocker. Emre was on alert and ready - excited even - with his cutlass drawn. Kaz prompted Emre to the exit once the sound changed; Emre was indignant until Kaz assured he'd follow behind. He'd better, Emre thought, as he snaked silently towards the exit, eyes still trained above them.

He paused when out of his periphery he saw Kaz nimbly clamber onto the desk, making him tall enough to reach up to the ceiling. Long fingers sprawled on the soft ceiling tile, and Emre suddenly wished he had a gun. Something to train upwards, focus pinpointed to Kaz's hunt.

But nothing leapt down to attack; instead Kaz put his knife away, and reached into the ducts as if reaching into a tall cupboard for the last box of biccy. A screech brought Emre's cutlass back up, as Kaz hauled...a child.

A child! A little wriggling thing that landed lightly and bolted before Kaz even had a chance to finish chastising it. Emre would've been amused if the tiny thing wasn't so fast on its thin legs. Emre swiped to grab at the boy, but he dodged, even flashed a cocky smirk at the two men behind him, before darting out the exit.

Kaz set Emre loose, like a dog after a rabbit. But the boy raced further up the stairwell, not down. "The fuck is he going!" Emre yelled, voice loudly echoing against concrete. He rushed up, two steps at a time, but the kid was sprightly.

The rooftop door was open, a glimpse of sneaker as the child dodged left. Emre pelted out, close enough to take a swipe at the kid - fingers brushed cloth, the kid yelped but seemed to know exactly where he was going. Some kind of secret escape no doubt; Emre barrelled after at full steam...towards the edge of the building. "Bloody hell you better not know how to bloody parkour," he panted, then glanced behind him to make sure - "Kaz!"

A split second as Emre processed the pole at the edge of the building, attached to a long wire with a pulley. A long wire that spanned the buildings...a zip line! It took a couple leaps for the boy to grab hold of the high pulley, enough time for Emre to catch up, lean over the lip of the rooftop and grab hold of the boy's ankle right as the boy started his escape. The boy dangled in midair over the street below, caught between clutching the pulley and Emre's grip on his ankle.

"No no no nooooo!" the boy wailed, trying vainly to kicked Emre's grip off.

"Shut it, you little blighter, or I'll chop your leg off!" Emre threatened, then looked over his shoulder. "Kaz!"

[kazxraval]

Seattle had yet to register with Kaz. They arrived in the middle of the streets he remembered but felt no real attachment for. Caught a whiff of the air, light and unburdened by the tropical humidity of the island. But lolling around sunny beaches was preferable to his hometown’s weather (overcast with a side of drizzling rain).

It was like walking through a dream. Even Emre was there.

Yes, Kaz could’ve gone alone. The idea of the trip hadn’t been hidden. (Could’ve done that, an expert at obfuscation). Kaz didn’t encourage but didn’t discourage the tag-a-long. Maybe he was pleased Emre cared to go, and maybe it was about time Kaz showed him Urmilla’s Seattle. 

First, they needed to get a lay of the land and a bird’s eye view seemed the best option. The city belonged to the apocalypse now. While the eyes of Panopticon’s monitors returned calm images of his old hometown to the Tower, they weren’t as trusted as seeing for himself, in person.

Kaz’s reward for carrying the bolt cutters was a warm slap on the ass. He matched Emre’s grin. “Sorry, boss, but the elevator is out of order.” He scoffed and shook his head while taking care of the lock. “All that sucking on the pipe, I guess?,” he innocently offered. “But we’re not that far apart in age.” Not that the number mattered now, and it wasn’t as if Kaz enjoyed climbing flights of stairs. They had a mission to accomplish. Part of which to find out if the past might help sort Urmilla’s future.

“I dunno,” Kaz mumbled over the question about the locked doors. “I liked that one, uh.” On to zombies now. “That one where they were in the mall? Cheesy, but. That and the classic. The first one, Night of the Living Dead? It wasn't Halloween unless I watched it by midnight.” A half-shrug, another thought as he grabbed Emre’s hand. “What if all the trainers in Seattle were saved and brought up here, hm? Under lock and key.”

No, not a zombie or box of shoes in sight. Only them. Emre came over to claim him. Kaz’s hands found the edges of Emre’s shirt to roam under and pull them closer for a kiss. “Sure it don’t mean ‘cheeky prick’?” His fingers pressed firmer around Emre’s spine to lock them together for a kiss with more of a kick to it, longer lasting, more heat.

He temporarily forgot what they were meant to find until the interruption. Air in the pipes. A settling of stagnant old buildings. Kaz didn’t quite want to commit to brushing it off. Instead, he followed Emre’s lead towards one of the windows while curious eyes stayed on the ceiling. As if to keep it in sight might make it easier to determine what the hell they heard.  “Could be,” he said low. “Or animals crawled in, made a home.” A beat, a blink. “Nah. Definitely one of those zombies. Thought I heard the feet drag.” 

Kaz was good to play along– with caution, as he scanned out the window to find the fastest route to where they needed to be. Then, they'd be out. Except Emre alerted the noise above to their presence. Their location, and Kaz’s previously softened expression froze into something firm. If he wasn’t frowning so hard his eyes would’ve gone wide. Kaz whispered with a furious point above their heads: “You fucking mental? Invite them for tea, why don’t you?”

No stomping was heard, no SOS dance for help. Instead, there was a patter. An excited run, and not terribly reassuring. Then a thunk in the ceiling above, like a bag of potatoes dropped into the air ducts.

And then the noise turned into a reciprocal pattern. A slow crawl of sound. Kaz followed with the same speed and as he stepped close to Emre, he gave him a protective, urgent push in the direction of the exit. But his gaze stayed frozen on the ceiling.

He mouthed silently, I’m right behind you. A lie to get Emre moving, because otherwise he'd never listen.

The movement over their heads stopped just above the desk they snogged at. He carefully climbed up on the furniture and lightly touched a water-stained ceiling tile, delicate tented fingers rested there. His other hand had already unsnapped the sheath of a small hunting knife and brought it up, ready to attack. 

If Kaz made a mental countdown, it wasn’t obvious. His hand under the tile shoved up suddenly, and he peered into the ceiling. The grip on his knife tightened… and then relaxed as the blade was replaced back into its holder. Kaz stood taller to reach inside, and there was a different kind of screech as he wrestled the intruder from the air duct. 

A child. A boy not more than 8 years old. Big brown saucer eyes and toasted skin. Kaz yanked the kid by the collar and dropped him to the desk. “The fuck you think you’re–” 

The kid landed like a cat, soundless and without stopping to ask for directions. He jumped to the floor of the office space nimble and with the sheer will of survival on his side. He darted erratic enough to change his direction at the last minute, as precise and effortless as a fake snap at a goalie. A little maneuver to skate fast by Emre. “DON'T let that little shit escape!” Kaz shouted.

It was exciting, going to Seattle. Even the word Seattle seemed like an unreal place to Emre. The city where Kaz Raval grew up, the place mum lived for years, quiet and hidden. Her most peaceful years after London, it seemed, were spent in Seattle.

Kaz had to go, and Emre had to come with him. It was a given to Emre that they'd travel together; but once they were in Seattle, Emre couldn't help but wonder if Kaz would've preferred coming alone. Preferred, or just used to doing everything alone?

Too bad, mate. Things would have to change now, Kaz would have to realize this.

Starting with Seattle. Kaz moving like a whirlwind, as Emre just quietly tried to take in the sights, like a tourist. He trailed after Kaz, who seemed to know precisely where they were headed. A proud brag as Kaz brandished the bolt cutters and Emre grinned back and swatted Kaz's arse. "Slogging it all these flights up is for the youth innit. In body, anyway. Effortless bastard; look at me, puffing."

Emre was most puffing from excitement, curiousity. Typical of Kaz, he'd been vague - informed Emre of the destination, but kept the reasons carefully out of reach for now. Lucky for Kaz, Emre rarely asked the why; a good little soldier roadman.

"You reckon someone's still got a key for this?" Emre asked, as he took the flashlight. "Might be something locked inside that someone don't want to get out. Ooooh, monsters. Zombies innit."

Emre chatty for chatty's sake. Inside was anti-climactic, but Emre strolled with interest. The day's remaining light poured through the windows, illuminating highlights of abandonment. Emre had questions, but Kaz had an absolute random one of his own.

"Cauliflower," Emre answered Kaz, who was artfully sprawled in a big office chair. He came over to straddle Kaz's knees, pin the restless man down. "Darling. What're we looking for here again?" Emre motioned out of one of the shattered windows. "Something out there, yeah? Erm. The courthouse?"

Before Kaz answered, Emre looked up to the rush of sound. Kaz was up in an instant as well. (Em. It sounded so familiar from Kaz; Emre loved it). "Air in the old pipes?" Emre ventured a guess.

Kaz asking Emre for opinions. That was new...collaborative, even. Emre nudged Kaz, striding towards the window so they could both gaze out over a broken city. A pity they wouldn't have time to scavenge all the floors, but time was credits.

"Locate what you was searching for," Emre prompted Kaz, and then looked upwards again.

And only one thing to do, Emre figured, to put their minds at ease. Known danger was better than unknown anything. He cupped his hands to his mouth. "Oi! Hello! Anyone up there! Stomp the floor if you're in trouble!"

[kazxraval]

Downtown Seattle @emreakbar

Kaz was the first to break the eerie silence. "Said we'd need this, yeah." When they'd first entered the skyscraper, Kaz had found a pair of bolt cutters. He kept them handy as they took what felt like an endless flight of stairs up. They might need to cut a lock away. They might need an extra weapon.

As it turned out, around the 20-something floor they were greeted with a double set of chained and locked doors. Kaz handed his torch to Emre. "Hold the light for me?," he whispered with a quick smile. "Someone doesn't want us to go in there." After a heavy snip, Kaz twisted the sliced lock away.

While the floor had been mostly clearly out, a few lonely looking cubicle dividers stood in the middle of the space. A copier on the floor, its insides exploded as it laid in a pool of its own paper. The main objective was to get a decent vantage point of the city from one of the windows. This floor was lined with them, which allowed for an almost 360 degree view of the city.

But before he made it to one of those windows, Kaz detoured into a glass enclosed office. Again, mostly empty. He set the bolt cutters on a bare desk and dropped into an expensive looking leather seat behind it. "This reminds me. I've had a question for you, for awhile. What's gobby mean?"

Moments later, Kaz paused a spin in the chair and sat up taller. "Em. You hear that?" A faint noise. Maybe a rush of air from a broken window a few floors up. Or a... squeal? Who knew what kind of wildlife had invaded and proliferated the building.

Out of the two, Kaz had the better set of ears, but Emre's sense of surroundings (and danger) was far superior. "Should we... think we should get to the window and then haul ass outta here?

[kazxraval]

Talking about fucking seemed the best pain relief for a broken head. How good it feels, the comment uttered between sips taken to mean the bed felt soft enough. The machines weren't too loud, the drugs numbed, and the ice water refreshed properly. Had he ever found himself in charge of the comfort of others? No. It had never been important either, not as it was then.

"I was always parent approved," followed by a cheeky grin that faded away with a nod and understanding of how serious it was. "It's funny, isn't it? To think you can call her any time now. Your're happy though." Later in the coming days, and as Emre convalesced, Kaz would take care of details. More cups with straws. Food brought to the pod. Help to wash up, sheets changed, all that shit. He'd find someone to step in and oversee the trades in the market for them both. Tease the captive too, give him a damn good reason to heal up as soon as possible.

As Emre fell asleep in his arms, Kaz would listen to the rise and fall of the softest breaths. His gaze focused on the shadows in the pod. Because as long as Kaz stayed awake, they'd stay in their respective corners of the pod.

But in between the dozing and as Emre sat propped more alert in his bed, Kaz could begin. What he saw in the tunnels, what Urmilla told him. She wanted to leave. She wanted out of the life that she left her old one for, the one with Emre and Omar and Iyaz. When Emre felt strong enough to walk to the tower, then that silly little coconut could be cracked open.

I can't let go, and you let go easy, hm. Weren't you always supposed to keep a part of yourself hidden, protected? Who taught him that? Should he say how deeply pressed the name Emre was through the pages when he tried to erase his name before? "So, don't let go." He doubled his arms over Emre's and melded his hands with the ones that clung tense. Locked together. Until the inevitable intern Kaz demanded burst through the door.

Someplace safe-- was anywhere safe? To find Iyaz seemed as fraught and fucked as Urmilla travling to him. If Kaz went to the trouble of reunited Emre and his mother, he damn well had no power to sit by idle and let it all fall apart either.

They'd get to it. Kaz unwound for a few seconds by harrassing a doctor. The pull on his hair gave a reason to smile and claim and turn into Emre again. Gently, he dragged them together. A leg crooked over Emre's, his hands drove up the other's spine, he kissed longer in the dips of Emre's collarbones. Symmetrical, centering both.

And then, he hummed and pulled his head back. "Fucking bastard," said with affection. "I never said any of that. Spoon feeding. Pus? For fuck's sake, Emre." With shoulders slightly rounded, he mimicked a quiet retch. And then decided perhaps he should eyeball that bandage. "I'm gonna clean your pointed little head, yeah? So it won't get infected. No pus-- fucking. That's disgusting." Kaz was dramatic in other ways as his brows frowned heavily and his expression contorted to the thought. He couldn't ignore comfort food though. "If you really want dahl, I'll see if anyone has ingredients."

Emre calmed and rewarded Kaz with a kiss. The wordless version of what Emre said next: We got each other, yeah. Meri jaan. The rest will work out, inshallah. It was all in there. The confirmation they had each other's backs. Meri jaan, this was a new song that he wanted on repeat. Meri jaan, meri jaan, was it a dream? The rest would work out, inshallah. Kaz kissed closed eyelids, a fragile and slightly oiled skin. "Inshallah," he murmured, and adjusted to his back while he kept Emre comfortable and close. The ceiling waited to be stared at, the shadows had to be kept at bay.

The smooth heat in Kaz's smile, made Emre's system rev like an engine running on fumes. "Mmm, fucking hell. Now I can't stop imagining that. Doc says I got to think about healing innit. Reasons to heal and that." Emre wished he could heartily smack Kaz's arse right there, give it a firm heft. He was too weak to move so decisively though, and settled for a softer, gentler outlining of Kaz's beautiful mouth with his thumb. "Best reason right here."

Kaz it seemed, couldn't stop his restless shifting. His need to make things comfortable, easier, perfect. Long fingers fussing with the pillow, adjusting a tube's position, smoothing out any rough edges. Emre sank into the bone-deep comfort of it all, of having Kaz there, hovering. "You have no idea how good this feels, man..." he murmured around the straw, gazing at Kaz. It wasn't an exaggeration, it was a hard reality. Could Kaz ever get to a point, where he'd allow any of this, for himself? Yet another re-confirmation for Emre, that he would keep trying for this man. Eventually get it through that obstinate, handsome head and locked-up heart.

This time, he tried by opening himself up a little more. Thoughts he couldn't verbalize before, finally seemed to spill out. Under the looming threat of a near-death - twice. Once for each of them - Emre couldn't stand hoarding his feelings close anymore. He'd almost lost Kaz, and Kaz had almost lost him. Emre watched Kaz, his focus swimming and eyes blurred through filmy tears and medication.

Kaz's face, ever the mask of neutrality, but Emre could tell he was patient, and listening. The way he rubbed Emre's earlobe, as if to soothe himself, but also encourage Emre to keep talking. Kaz wanted to hear this, so Emre continued. Surprisingly, Kaz didn't harden when Emre brought up their big blow-out. Maybe his pointed nose got a little flushed, cheeks a little pink, but Emre kept talking. Hoping it wouldn't end in barbs and a stony retreat.

Instead, Kaz replied in soft kisses to Emre's skin, each one like a small blessing. 'Kind of,' Kaz replied. Emre would take that. But he had to gently tease Kaz, lighten the mood whilst also hammer the truth home. Forehead against Kaz's brow, Emre murmured, "You're parent-approved, my darling. That means everything to me, don't it."

A sharp intake of breath, as Emre pulled it all together in his bleary head. "And you made it all happen, too. You found my mum! You found my mum for me, brilliant bastard. Mashallah. Mashallah for you, alhamdulillah. You're a blessing on my family, Kaz." Maybe it was the drugs talking, making Emre so dramatic. But what was new, about Emre Akbar exercising a little drama.

A slight chuckle. "You would've succeeded in erasing me innit. I can't let go, and you let go easy, hm." The slight unease coalesced in Emre's chest at the thought. His fingers tried to grasp harder, arms tried to wrap tighter around Kaz.

The idea of his mum on the island didn't register properly for Emre at first. He put that thought away for later, focussing on the one that made sense to him: Iyaz. "Yeah. Once I'm better. We'll find them and get them together. I want them in one place, Kaz. Somewhere safe."

Kaz's kisses and hands all over him, and Emre knew he had no ability to do much but loll about and sigh, and clumsily knead at Kaz. But even that felt perfect, exquisite. For now. Emre was determined to get better; and if his biggest motivation was so him and Kaz could fuck again, so be it. He'd never felt more free than this moment, and Emre wanted to taste more of that.

"Allow it, man." Emre's voice low and husky with amusement as Kaz couldn't help clapping back at Dr Yang. One final say. Emre twirled a lock of Kaz's hair on his finger, tugged it like he was pulling on curtain strings. "You just can't help yourself innit. Gorgeous man."

Like a satisfied panther that chased off an interloper, Kaz heavily settled back in, made an offer Emre couldn't refuse. "You what. Nurse me? You'd put up with tight enclosed spaces to spoon-feed me dahl and drain the pus from my head? Flipping hell, this must be jannah."

Emre closed his eyes, Kaz's words of warning and planning floating around, like smooth soft silk around Emre's skin. He felt he needed to tense, to think about what killing yet another man would mean, to his mum. A mum who seemed like she might forgive him, or at least try to love him despite everything he'd done in his life. But Emre didn't want to think about any of that. Eyes still closed, Emre kissed Kaz to quiet his mind too. "We got each other, yeah. Meri jaan. The rest will work out, inshallah."

[kazxraval]

A brief but sultry look was passed on. A smile as the slow Emre suggested, drawn out by thoughts in his head to go along with it. No qualms at all with entertaining Emre’s notions– it meant the knock to the head didn’t completely fuck him up. While not designed to be taken literally, the suggestion of being splayed on a table circled warmly through Kaz’s midsection. They were both wrecked and injured but it cost nothing at all to dream. “I’ll make sure you wanna lick the plate clean too.”

Emre quietly sipped during the summary of what had been learned in the tunnels. When all had been said, Kaz preferred to fill the silence by fussing with the edge of a pillow, fingers drumming on a lidded cup, or smoothing an insulting wrinkle out of a blanket on the cot. Meaningful fidgeting, 

Yet those long pulls on the straw meant Emre geared up to talk. An image of a desi woman appeared in Kaz’s head. Familiar enough to be an auntie and at times she questioned Kaz like one. Weighed and judged things he did and nudged him back on course as needed. With her sparkling eyes, gorgeous with a depth that most of the time obscured an unexplained sadness. Unexplained until Kaz ended up on this island.

I knew she was still my mum, if she looked after you.  A line that drew his eyes away from a bruise around an IV and up to Emre’s gaze again. Urmilla, Emre’s mother and his old friend, had stepped into the present, as real and relevant as each other were. She no longer belonged as a misplaced photo from a box filled with others, labeled ‘Seattle’. The proof wasn’t in an image on a cell phone anymore but flesh and blood on the Nile. 

On the boat, Emre saw through the icy demeanor and recognized Urmilla in the way she talked to Kaz. This was what it looked like to return someone lost, he thought. Urmilla’s son no longer needed memory to reconcile. Emre’s eyes were calm and glassy, as beautifully serene as a lagoon at midnight. Her kindness to a stray cast off by his own parents somehow brought her back to life so many years later. 

He gently caught the soft upper curve of Emre’s ear to gently rub between thumb and index finger, careful not to disrupt the torrent from the other’s mouth. Brows furrowed while Kaz did what he could to follow the string that laced all of Emre’s thoughts, like this spectacular man wanted to sculpt a real model of himself out of those emotions. 

No, he never understood why the argument in that tiny hut stuck around longer than it should’ve. Kaz felt his face heat up. A low mechanical ring came from somewhere but he fought to hear through it. A ghostly weight fell to the center of his chest. If not for Emre’s hand on him, Kaz might’ve allowed his wrongly wired self-preservation skills to pull him away. 

Proud, Emre repeated. Proud. Kaz couldn’t be certain if he understood completely, his own disconnection to family ingrained and resolute. But he clasped Emre’s hand to kiss the finger and drag it across his lips as he spoke. “Kind of. I kind of understand.” More kisses were placed over knuckles, scratches and scrapes the latests editions over the faded mehndi pattern. The wobble of his head was slight. “You would’ve let me go then. If I were someone else. But, yeah. You didn’t.” Kaz brought Emre’s cool palm to a cheek. “I tried to erase you too.” 

There wasn’t any way for Emre to know the conversation with Urmilla under the streets of Alexandria. Wholly surprised, especially to hear Emre wanted mother and son reunited with what Kaz used to coerce Urmillia into talking to her eldest in the first place. “She really wants to be here, Emre. On the island.” Finding Iyaz came with a host of problems, more than logistics. Perhaps they could work those out, and perhaps Emre could take all the credit. “You’re the only person who could make it happen, but I’ll help. When you’re on the mend, okay?” 

Then, they melted together warm. Sticky but tame. He was awash in the rare currents of tired mind meeting an equally exhausted body, to the point the worry of night terrors happening hadn’t registered. At the same time, the whisper was as effective as a hand on the thigh. A tattoo he stitched into Emre’s skin was under a hand while his mouth found a spot on Emre’s neck to kiss. All before Dr. Yang barged in with the cockblock. 

“First of all – I have no clue what Postmates is.” Context provided enough of a meaning. But he scowled for the sake of it, for the reminder Kaz Ravel had missed out on so much, so young. “I mean, hey. Thought a doctor might actually have some pull around here? Sorry to hear it’s not the case.” Kaz amended a more prickly remark in the hope of gaining something more substantial out of the Medicentre for Emre’s comfort.

He perked up once Dr. Yang assigned an intern to meet the demands. Kaz nodded, an intern being a more controllable interruption. More malleable and contained than the doctor too. When Yang was gone, Kaz settled in again and said low, “Now, we’re gonna get the real drugs for you. Make sure you’ll be flying high back at the dorms for days too” A pause. “I can stay for a couple of days, if you want. Help out and all that.” 

Emre disagreed over Luis (in Kaz’s mind it was totally worth the effort). “I mentioned she gave me something, yeah? We’ll look at it together. Some information she wanted us to have. And I have a feeling it will help with all this Theo shit, but.” Where the fuck was Theo, anyway? “We can end it. But we wouldn’t be able to tell her, hm?” Urmilla would lose it if she knew they had gotten rid of Theo permanently - wouldn’t she? “We can try to keep it from her, but she'll find out."

A strange time to observe the tiny things; but Emre marveled at the way Kaz took to his every gentle touch, like a cat tilted for paramount contact. Emre noticed this ages ago - a rushed, impulsive kiss, and Kaz had responded like it was always supposed to be that way. At first Emre had attributed it to reactiveness, or maybe sluttiness; both equally pleasing.

But this was different, Emre now realized. The tilt of his column-like neck to Emre's fingertips, the way Kaz allowed any and all of Emre's exploration without resistance. How desperately Emre had missed and yearned for this, when he and Kaz were at odds. How much Emre appreciated it now. Not just the physical pleasure of his smooth, dark gold skin, soft hairs, the muscle underneath. Every beautiful scar, a mark of obstinate, incredible survival against all odds. It was Kaz himself, leaning his everything into Emre, no hesitation. Emre remembered a poignant, painfully pretty moment in his and Iyaz's old home, right before he almost ruined everything with Kaz. When he'd looked at Kaz, taking the time to visit him, show him photos, share agonizing tales; right as Kaz had scoffed about his own thoughtlessness.

Maybe Kaz didn't know what he was like; Emre found that hard to believe, a man as self-possessed, so tightly controlled as Kaz Raval. But. It was possible, wasn't it?

Just like Emre wanted, Kaz immediately refuted any celibacy concerns. Dark head shaking, long curls falling artfully (maddeningly; Emre wanted to grab and consume, but he couldn't) as he plied Emre with reassurances. "Mm. Might be interesting, this slow. Make a meal out of you, yeah. Twenty-course feast and that." Somehow, Emre made that sound imperious, like a Khan expecting no less.

In his childhood, Emre was the firstborn son. Sure, Iyaz was firstborn for Urmilla, but Emre was first in the Akbar family. Being doted on for this was expected; and when it was stripped away from Emre, he learned quickly to never ask for it, from anyone but his fantasy of ghosted parents. Kaz positioning the straw for Emre was ridiculously reminiscent, and Emre took to it like a bloom to the sun. He drank, and watched Kaz watching him. Inspecting him; Emre luxuriated under those clear brown attentive eyes.

Where Kaz felt intrusive acting like a go-between, Emre accepted it like it was his due. He listened intently to Kaz's thoughts on mum, what she wanted, how she felt. Emre was silent for a while, only giving a small, agreeable huff when Kaz concluded with charming irreverence. Kaz thought of everything, didn't he.

"Erm... y'know when we realized you knew her in Seattle. What we chatted on, before you shown me them birthday photos on your phone. Mum being a court clerk and that. A teacher. Was just good to get some answers, innit. And that you knew her well. Better than anyone else in Seattle, I'd imagine. She...she was kind to you. I knew she was still my mum, if she looked after you. Like - like she would mind her own children, yeah. She was just that sort of person, who'd care about children who wasn't her own, and that."

Emre blinked heavily, unsure of what he was saying. He kept rambling, like an abscess draining from brain to mouth. "If I could've explained myself properly to you then, man. That I loved you for knowing her. I loved my parents more than anything, even - even Iyaz. I loved him for them. And then you come along, and I find out that mummy loves you too, innit. And it felt like - like -" The tears flooded Emre's eyes, but he didn't mind.

"You don't think about our row anymore, but I still do, man. You couldn't understand. Hurting you was like hurting my parents. I disappoint you, I disappoint them. Mum already knows the truth about me, darling. No chat is gonna change who I am. I'm not the son to be proud of, man. But." Right. Here was the truth that perhaps mum already understood - that Kaz needed to know as well. Emre moulded his fingers against Kaz's taut skin, gazing up into those dark galaxy eyes.

"I was so proud that it was you who knew my mum. Because if - if mum loves you, then - then my parents can be proud of me for something, innit. For actually making one right, brilliant, good choice, in my bloody lifetime of bad choices." Emre touched Kaz's bottom lip, pressed his finger against the plump resistance. "You understand, man?"

Emre licked his bottom lip, unknowingly saying what Urmilla herself told Kaz: "If she wants out, then we should help her. And we should help her connect with her Yaz."

Then Kaz somehow got himself closer at Emre's bequest. Somehow taking his large, long frame and fitting it into the slim cot, so close and limbs entwined with Emre's. A perfect tangle; Emre remembered the utter bliss that he'd held so precious in Kaz's grotto. Getting to lie in Kaz's bed felt like a once-in-a-lifetime; but here they were again, not a replica but an continued flow of that intense intimacy. If Kaz sidelined the other big problems, seeing Kaz get comfortable so quickly, blanked everything else out for Emre.

Emre shifted against Kaz lazily, not expecting to be turned on by anything when he was swimming with painkillers and tethered to tubes and bandages. And yet... his jaan. Kaz had to say it, and Emre's body rebelled against itself, needing to feel it. Kaz impossibly close to him, taut skin flush and lickable. "Fucking hell, man. You make it so nothing hurts, yeah..." he whispered, as if trying out this newfangled 'slow' right then and there.

Doctor Yang appeared, snarking like she was pre-planned. Kaz had a quick retort, and Emre just held onto him, even kissed his collarbone as Kaz peeled slightly back to deliver one of his patented flat glares at the doctor.

Yang was unphased as usual, maybe even a little amused. Emre nosed against the soft cocoon of bone and heat between Kaz's shoulder and crooked arm, but he heard the amusement drop from Yang's own retort. "I'm a doctor, not freaking Postmates - spoil him yourself. What, the lunch ladies at the canteen scare you, loverboy?" Yang efficiently checked Emre's vitals, who seemed to barely even notice she was there. She tutted, but even her stone heart relented at the sight of them.

"I'll send one of the interns to take the Princeling's food order, and whatever. They're useless for anything else, anyway." Yang sailed away and warned Kaz, "Don't overwork the intern, bubba."

Kaz made brutal plans, and Emre hummed in loopy approval. "Save the real shit for Theo, right. Luis ain't so bad, just a bit of a muppet innit. Wannabe gangster." Emre's mind momentarily cleared of epic curvy stanzas of passionate Urdu poetry, to remember: "Theo can't ever go after mum again. We find out who the fuck he's working for, and we kill him. Let's end this. For her."