Specter's Gamble - 8. Chapter 8

“I didn’t even touch you,” Gabriel muttered when both of them were coherent enough to speak.

Desmond slowly opened his eyes and looked at him.

“Mmm?” he asked lazily.

“You came...” Gabriel whispered. “...so hard... And I didn’t even touch you...”

Desmond smiled without baring his teeth and closed his eyes again.

“When the angle is right, I don’t need to be touched,” he muttered and felt a light peck of Gabriel’s lips on his own. “And the angle was ideal,” he finished when the kiss melted in his mouth.

Gabriel lay down next to him, his arm wrapped tightly around Desmond’s waist. They lay like that until Desmond started feeling sleep pulling him down. He grabbed onto Rayhe’s fingers and was about to give into a heavy weight that seemed to be pushing on his eyelids, when Gabriel spoke once again.

“Specter... Hey, Specter...”

That made Desmond smile and he slightly opened his eyes. Gabriel was looking at him intently.

“What’s your name?” he asked, and Desmond just looked at him without saying anything. “Your actual name,” Gabriel said. “The one you were born to...”

Desmond remained silent, his eyes suddenly alert. Finally, Gabriel let out a small sigh.

“If you don’t wanna tell me, it’s okay,” he muttered. “I understand, I...”

“Desmond,” the assassin interrupted him. “Desmond Alexander Rae.”

“Desmond,” Gabriel repeated after a few minutes. “Desmond,” he said again, as if tasting the name, figuring out how it felt when it rolled around his tongue. “Desmond...” he whispered, and for some reason, hearing him say his name, made Desmond scoot closer and entwine their fingers together. “That’s a great name,” Gabriel muttered and dove into the crook of Desmond’s neck again. “Suits you.”

“How so?” Desmond muttered sleepily and he could feel Gabriel shrug.

“Just does,” he said simply and Desmond nodded slowly, sleep tugging him down for real.

“Take the cuffs off,” the assassin muttered sleepily.

“Mm-mm,” was Gabriel’s reply.

“Asshole,” Desmond whispered and smiled when he heard weak laughter.

Right before he fell asleep, Desmond thought:

“I could break his neck very easily right now...”

It was true. No matter how relaxed he was right now, it wouldn’t take long for him to get that deadly speed of his back. He’d be out of this shitty abandoned house in less than ten minutes, with breaking Rayhe’s neck, getting out of the handcuffs, and getting dressed combined. Instead of doing that, he just sighed deeply, placed his right hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, and surrendered to the sleep that took its revenge immediately. He’ll worry about it tomorrow when the sun is up and when he is bitchy enough from the lack of cigarettes.

****

... He made it all the way to the front door when he heard her hissing:

“Don’t you dare talking to me this way!”

...and then the buckle bit into his back so hard that he lost his balance and ended up running into the wall face-first. Desmond involuntarily cried out when his forehead collided with a rough wall, splitting his eyebrow. He could feel a warm trickle of blood running down the side of his nose. He tried turning around, but the belt struck again, that fucking buckle hitting almost the same spot it hit several seconds ago. The pain was so bad that Desmond’s vision blinked into complete blackness for a moment or two.

“You worthless, useless piece of shit!” she hissed, and Desmond knew that she was about to bring down the belt again. He was right. “I wasted my life on you!” The buckle bit into his shoulder blade. “I was hoping that you would turn out to be someone useful!” This time the buckle hit him right on the spine, tearing his shirt, making him howl in pain. “But you are useless! Completely useless! You are a waste, you shitty worm! If I kill you right now, it’ll make this world a better place!” Another bolt of blinding pain erupted in his body. “Someone so useless doesn’t deserve to breathe in air!”

Somehow (Desmond had no idea how), he was able to turn around, and his Grandmother’s face turned white from loathing. Desmond was almost shocked. He had no idea she hated him so much. Why in the world would she hate him so much? He never did anything to cause this much loathing. She brought down her arm again, and the buckle ripped some skin off his collarbone. “Next time it’ll take my eye out,” Desmond thought and that made his body move finally.

He lifted his arms, and his hands caught the damn buckle right before it smashed into his face. It seemed like Desmond was right – she was aiming for his eyes. For someone in her late sixties, his Grandmother was surprisingly strong. She yanked the belt with maddening force, and it made Desmond’s palms to bleed, since he was holding onto that buckle. He managed not to let go, however.

“Why?” he asked in a breaking voice. “Why do you hate me so much?”

“Let go!” she growled and yanked the belt again.

Desmond gritted his teeth and wrapped the belt around his wrist. He was not going to let her do this anymore. Partially, because he couldn’t stand the thought of enduring any more pain, but partially, because he was afraid that she would actually kill him.

“Why do you hate me so much?” he repeated through his clenched teeth. “I have never done anything to you! Why do you hate me so fucking much?!”

“Because you are nothing but a useless disappointment!” she snarled. “Just like your mother! My whole life I wanted her to become someone important, someone useful, someone who mattered! Instead, that stupid useless brat ended up getting pregnant and having you! And then I was the one you were dumped on! After she decided that having a bastard child at sixteen was not as much fun as she imagined! The stupid bitch didn’t even know who the father was!”

Desmond was so startled that he almost let go of the belt. The only reason his Grandmother couldn’t get it back into her possession, was the fact that it was wrapped around Desmond’s wrist.

“She died...” he stuttered, and his Grandmother howled with insane laughter that made Desmond shiver involuntarily.

“No, you useless piece of shit!” she wailed. “She didn’t die! Although that would be a much better alternative! She should’ve died! I should’ve killed her myself, but I didn’t have the guts! She ran off, Desmond! She ran off because she couldn’t stand being around you! Maybe she is dead by now, who knows! Oh, God, I hope she is dead!” she cried out with feverish glare in her eyes. “Let go of the belt! Let go right now! You goddamn brat! Let go of the belt!”

Suddenly, Desmond became very calm. So calm that even the pain didn’t matter as much. It was still there, still hurting him; it just didn’t matter as much.

“No,” he said calmly. “I am done with you. I don’t know if you are telling the truth or if you are lying through your teeth right now..." Somehow, however, he knew she wasn't lying. "...and it doesn’t matter. If you are telling the truth, then don’t blame this shit on me. I didn’t ask for anything. If you hated me so goddamn much, you should’ve just put me into an orphanage. I am leaving, so shut up, and let me go!”

“You are not going anywhere!” she hissed, her eyes two mad slits.

“Yes, I am,” Desmond said as calmly as before, and suddenly, he pulled the belt so hard that she let out a shriek of surprise. She wouldn’t let go of her end, so she ended up being dragged towards Desmond.

“I should just use this on her,” Desmond thought indifferently. “But I am not going to.”

“Stop this,” he said and she spat in his face.

Desmond flinched from this new humiliation, and his hand acted out of its own will when it flew up and slapped his Grandmother on the face.

“You...” was all she managed to say, and then she finally let go of the belt just so she could sink her fingernails into his face. Desmond screamed. It felt like she was trying to claw his eyes out. He tried shoving her away from him, but it didn’t work.

“Stop!” he screamed. “Stop!”

That was when he grabbed her by the neck and started squeezing his fingers around her throat. Later, when he thought about it (he thought about it until his head was about to split apart from a headache), he was trying to figure out if he just wanted her to stop clawing at his face, or if he simply wanted to kill her. He didn’t know. All he knew was the fact that soon enough, her fingernails stopped trying to rip his eyes out; her hands grasped his wrists, trying to peel them away from her throat; her eyes were getting hazier and hazier; and her breathing sounded like the worst asthma attack in the history of the world.

Then Desmond blinked and unwrapped his fingers, staring at her bruised throat, as she collapsed onto the floor in a lifeless, heavy heap. Desmond stared at her, waiting for her to start breathing, to come about, to get off the floor, to lunge at him again... She never did. He stood there for almost two hours, and then finally, he went into his room, changed his ruined shirt, ignoring the screaming pain on his back and his face, grabbed a bag, took all the money that he had hidden in his drawer, and went into the kitchen. He knew where his Grandmother kept her money. She never believed in banks and such, therefore, she would always hide money in the freezer, behind a frozen turkey and old beef.

Desmond pulled a tube wrapped in a white cloth from the freezer, the damn turkey brushing against his hand and making him jump. It felt like some undead creature...

“It’s her! She is right here, and now she is going to kill you for sure, because you can’t do anything about it! You can’t kill someone twice!”

...from a bad horror novel decided to pull him into that freezer. Desmond shuddered and slammed the freezer shut. Soon enough, he was walking towards the train station and he felt like he was that turkey. He felt completely frozen.

****

He was jerking and moaning in his sleep, and when someone’s palm touched his face, his right hand automatically lashed out and grabbed somebody’s soft throat.

“Desmond...” he heard a whisper and his fingers immediately relaxed.

He opened his eyes, realizing that he was sweating like someone who had a fever. Gabriel was leaning over him, his forehead greased with a frown.

“Same dreams?” he asked, and Desmond sat up, letting his cuffed arm to twist slightly behind his back.

“Yeah,” he said finally.

“What are they about?”

Desmond closed his eyes. “You are nothing but a useless disappointment! Just like your mother! I wasted my life on you! You goddamn...”

“I don’t remember,” he said shortly.

“If you don’t want to talk about it, then just say so,” Gabriel said calmly, and Desmond turned his head to look at him.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he said evenly, and Rayhe simply nodded without saying anything. He gently pulled Desmond’s arm , and the assassin slowly lowered himself on top of him.

He was almost afraid to fall asleep again. Finally, his eyes closed and he let himself to relax enough to be able to turn the reality off for a while. Soon he jerked again, his forehead one tight frown, moans forming in the back of his throat. Gabriel propped himself up on one elbow and carefully stroked his eyebrows with his fingers. This simple act seemed to be enough, because Desmond’s frown smoothed out, and his body relaxed. He let out a deep sigh without waking up, and wrapped his arm around Gabriel’s waist. He didn’t have any more dreams until the sun started stroking the windows of the abandoned house with shameless, sensual heat.

****

Desmond woke up because of the light touches that were fluttering all over his chest. He blinked several times, getting last shreds of sleep out of his eyes, the world regaining focus again. Gabriel looked up, tracing one of Desmond’s scars on his chest.

“That’s a hell of a lot of scars,” he said seriously.

“Occupational hazard,” Desmond muttered, enjoying the feeling of fingertips on his skin.

“How old were you...”

“...when you had your first kill?” Desmond finished silently and blinked again when Gabriel said:

“...when you got your first scar?”

The assassin was silent for a minute.

“Four,” he finally said softly and Gabriel’s eyes widened just a little. “I spilled orange juice on my Grandmother’s newspapers,” Desmond continued. “She hasn’t read it yet. That one is on my back though,” he finished.

Rayhe didn’t say anything to that. He just sighed and sat up, his fingers never leaving Desmond’s chest.

“Desmond,” he said finally, and Desmond was almost startled to hear his own name. It has been a while since the last time anyone called him by his real name. Gabriel glanced at him when he felt the assassin tense. “Specter...” he said slowly. “Would you rather I call you that name?”

Desmond bit his lip. It felt bizarre to hear his name, but at the same time, it felt... Good, somehow.

“Desmond is good,” he said finally, and Gabriel nodded.

“All right then,” he said slowly. “Desmond...” he sounded as if he was trying to carefully choose the words for whatever he was about to say. “Last night... I don’t want you to get the wrong idea, okay?”

There was that tension again. Desmond had no clue why all of a sudden, he felt almost hurt. It wasn’t like he miraculously found his mate last night. It was good, yes, but it also didn’t mean anything more than just getting laid. Why the hell did he feel this way when he heard Gabriel say ‘the wrong idea’? He was about to say something when Gabriel spoke again.

“It didn’t happen because I was trying to manipulate you somehow,” he said, and Desmond frowned in confusion. Manipulate? What...? “To make you change your mind about Sam LeVoughn... In fact, it had nothing to do with either one of the LeVoughns...”

“To change my mind?” Desmond repeated dumbfoundedly. Was that what this was about? He was afraid that Desmond would see it as some manipulation trick to save the kid’s life?

“Well,” Gabriel shrugged. “I didn’t know if you’d think that, and I figured...”

“Rayhe,” Desmond said with a snort, trying to ignore the fact that right now he felt incredibly relieved. “You are good, but you wouldn’t be able to manipulate me even if you tried.”

Now Gabriel looked like he was trying to hide a smile. Desmond’s eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“What?” he demanded.

“Nothing,” Gabriel shook his head immediately.

“Nothing my ass,” Desmond said. “What is it? You look like I just told you an inappropriate joke at a funeral.”

“It’s nothing, really...” Gabriel shook his head again, but his eyes darted towards the handcuffs for a second.

“You, asshole!” Desmond said in a low voice. “That was different!”

“I didn’t say anything,” Rayhe protested.

“That wasn’t manipulation!” Desmond raged. “That was...”

“...a misunderstanding,” Gabriel finished quickly and got up, forcing Desmond to do the same. “Come on, get dressed. Let’s go get some smokes.”

Desmond glared at him but said nothing. He put on his pants and buttoned up his shirt. That was when he realized that he had to take care of a very basic need.

“Ummm,” he said.

“What?” Gabriel looked at him without a smile this time.

“I need to...”

Dammit!

“...take a leak,” he finished tightly.

“Okay,” Rayhe shrugged, and Desmond just stared at him.

“What do you mean, ‘okay’?” he said. “I am not doing it in front of you!”

Gabriel frowned, clearly confused.

“Why?” he asked.

“Why?” Desmond repeated. “Because this is...” he struggled finding a word for a second. “Private!” he finished finally.

“You nearly came down my throat last night,” Gabriel said with the same confused frown. “And now, all of a sudden, you fret about something like taking a leak in front of me?”

“That was different...” Desmond closed his eyes for a second. “This is...” he struggled with the word-choice once again. “Humiliating,” he said tightly.

“What is so humiliating about a normal bodily function?” Gabriel frowned even more.

“Goddammit!” Desmond hissed through his clenched teeth. “It just is, okay? Pissing in front of someone is different from almost coming into their mouth, okay?”

“I would hope so,” Gabriel nodded, and Desmond felt an urge to kill when he saw that ‘Whatever-You-Do-Don’t-Smile’ expression on Rayhe’s face.

“Just...” Desmond took a deep breath. “Take off the damn cuffs!”

“Either you piss with the cuffs on or you piss your pants eventually,” Gabriel said, and Desmond knew that he meant it.

“I am going to kill him,” he thought furiously. “God-fucking-dammit! I am going to kill him right now!”

That reminded him of the gun he had in his possession last night. He glanced around. Gun was nowhere in sight. Well, shit.

“I have both guns,” Gabriel said, and Desmond tried to stop himself from more teeth grinding. “I knew that eventually you’d be tempted to use it on me, and...” he shrugged. “I am getting tired of repeating this, Des... I am not suicidal.”

Des... Desmond froze in his place. Nobody ever called him ‘Des.’ His Grandmother would only call him ‘Desmond,’ and as for the rest of the population... It was either ‘Specter’ or ‘Phantom.’

“I promise not to look,” Gabriel said solemnly, and when Desmond gritted his teeth again, it actually hurt this time.

“When I actually do kill you, It will hurt,” he said. “A lot,” he added a second later.

Gabriel just nodded, as if agreeing with him wholeheartedly. The whole ordeal wasn’t incredibly bad, to be honest. And it wasn’t as humiliating as Desmond thought it would be. It wasn’t a pleasant experience by any means, but Rayhe was right when he said earlier that it was just a natural bodily function and nothing else. After everything was taken care of, both of them rolled down their sleeves to hide the handcuffs, and went outside to find the nearest smoke shop. In the bright light of the day, Desmond immediately recognized the area. To his enormous surprise, it was the very same smoke shop he was on the way to when Rayhe knocked him out. “My apartment is two blocks from here,” he thought in amusement. “We are bloody neighbors!” The thought made him laugh, and Gabriel looked at him with a silent question.

“It’s nothing,” Desmond said. “I just remembered something.”

Gabriel shrugged and pushed open the door of the smoke shop. They bought two cartons of cigarettes, and the man behind the counter just raised his eyebrow slightly when Rayhe reached for his right pocket with his left hand due to the hidden handcuffs. Gabriel’s face was completely indifferent, as if he was doing this all the time, and the man shrugged to himself and took the money out of his hand. His face all but said out loud, “Everyone is a freak in a way.”

They left the smoke shop and neither of them noticed a man behind one of the shelves who was hidden in the shadows. The man watched them with great intensity, and after they were gone, he pulled a phone out of his pocket and punched in the number. “Hey,” he said into the phone several seconds later. “It’s me. Your day is about to get a hell of a lot brighter...”