I EARNED THIS.

          “Hey,  you’d know better than me.  Last I heard,  he was followin’ up on a lead  —  but knowing Sam,  it’s either gonna take him an hour or a  week.  Looks like you’re stuck with me ‘til then.  Excited yet?”

       “– look, sometimes cheap ‘n reliable is the way to go. don’t knock it, moneybags.” incredulous, she huffs, chin tilted proudly. “i’unno why we have to do this schpeel every time. i wouldn’t come to you if it wasn’t important because that means i could get it myself, but anyway – i need a key that’s not a key. vague, i know. that can open up the unopenable and other such dr. seuss nonsense.” 

          “That’s  …  not really narrowing it down.    Don’t suppose you wanna tell me what you  do  have the patience for  —  ?”

          “ – i feel like i’m gonna have tea with the queen of sheba with how complicated findin’ you has been. all of this for a lousy cursed teapot.” // @ignobledeath

     “I'm takin’ my brother and we're leavin’.”

     His pulse is erratic.  Heavy.  It jumps beneath the press of steel held to his throat.  He has him now,  right where he wants him.

    There’s something warm and wet dripping from his hairline.  Blood mixing with dirt,  the sweat on his temple.  There’s something else  ––  something that hurts like a fresh bruise,  but all over his body.  Fractured bones and contused skin,  open wounds that pulse and ache with exertion.

     Adrenaline might be the only thing holding him upright.

    “You want to stay and burn with this ship, you be my guest.”

     He inhales and tastes gunpowder in the back of his throat.  The air is thick with it,  heady as the sweltering heat of this blazing inferno around them,  but the one inside of him is worse.

      It serves as fodder,  this resentment;  the scrim of hatred that scorches and boils in his blood,  a merciless reminder of just how much had been sacrificed.  How much of his life had been dedicated to finding Avery’s treasure?  How much blood had to be spilled,  how much sweat,  how much time and energy and wherewithal had Rafe poured into this?

     Fifteen years worth.  It’s all that he is,  all that he’s become,  and like hell if he’s going to let Nathan Drake take that away from him.

     “You got me.”

     Muscles twinge and protest against the strain,  the swift parry and slash of his sword;  the foot he kicks out against Nathan’s chest knocks him unto his back and this is his moment  ––  this is the weight of the weapon,  this is the sweat that saturates his palms,  the blood in his mouth and the fierce determination in his heart.

     “You know what,  Nate?  Underneath  all  the bravado,  you’re just a sad little boy with  delusions  of grandeur.”

     This is everything he has ever wanted,  everything he has earned,  everything he deserves.

     “So long,  Nathan Drake.”

          “I get that a lot.  You’re gonna have to be more specific.”

            these sheets have a higher thread count than he has money in the bank.  it’s been an exercise in commitment  —  barring those thirteen years in a cell,  sam can’t remember the last time he stayed in one place for this long.  can’t remember the last time he stayed  for  someone,  either.    god help him when that someone turned out to be rafe adler.  ( god help the both of them,  if he’s being honest.  which is another thing.  he’s not usually this honest. )

            ever since the hospital had finally cut him loose,  rafe’s hobbies have included denying that he’s in any pain,  snapping at his staff,  trying to skip physical therapy,  sulking for hours when sam doesn’t  let  him skip physical therapy  —

            and,  of course,  this.

            he’d felt the shift beside him,  and it’s no mean feat to keep his expression neutral.  to pretend he’s asleep when,  in reality,  he was wondering when rafe would venture down this road again.  not that he’s about to complain.  his eyes are still closed when the chuckle starts to resonate in his chest,  and he reaches to land a palm around the back of rafe’s neck.

            “i  was  tryin’ to get some shut - eye,  but i’m not gonna turn down a better offer.”  he looks at him then,  with the lazy slant of a smile.  “like,  ah  …  shit,  i don’t know.  you?”

     A better offer.  He knows what that means.  It means warm hands and an inviting mouth that worships every inch of him  ––  from his shoulders to his chest,  his abdomen and the trail of dark hair leading him beneath the sheet and between his legs.  Rafe loves this;  he loves giving to him like he always wanted to,  but what’s better is knowing that Samuel wants  him  just as bad.  That  this  is something he loves,  too.

     Not in the way every man loves a mouth around his cock,  but the fact that it’s  him.  Rafe,  and his mouth,  and his tongue,  and how he looks at him from between his legs with those fucking eyes.  That’s what Sam likes to call them.  Those fucking eyes.  He misses the praise he gets when he does that.

     The hand at the nape of his neck is just as inviting as the previous thought.  He leans over to kiss him and catches himself getting a little too eager,  a little too soon.  His weight is supported on an elbow propped against the mattress,  and he uses it to lever back before Sam can take advantage of it.  He has a habit of doing that,  Rafe noticed;  maybe he just makes it too easy for him.

      It’s like sleeping next to a furnace,  he tells him  ––  Rafe catches the innuendo every time,  if only because he can damn near see it in the way he smirks.  Guess you’re just too goddamn hot.  He said this two nights ago;  Rafe had scowled and rolled his eyes,  but his cheeks flushed deep red and within mere minutes afterward,  he found himself laid on his back with Samuel pressing in close to kiss him.

      Rafe wants to return that gesture now,  but his confidence flickers like a dwindling flame.

     He doesn’t have a very good range of motion.  He’s stiff,  limited to certain movements and there are still things he can’t do.  Things that he can’t give to Sam yet.  Things he  can,  sparingly,  like a warm and eager mouth.  He knows how much he likes that.