The Year of the Salamander - 9. Chapter 9

Desmond was smoking lazily, his feet up on the chair, his nose buried in the paper. The sliding glass door was wide open and Sam could see Specter trying to nail several butterflies at once in the tall grass outside. Gabriel was making food, as he usually did in the mornings.

“Oh,” Sam said when he saw him. “I thought you were at work...”

“It’s Sunday,” Gabriel said, stirring something in the frying pan. “Hungry?”

“No,” Sam glanced at the clock. “I am...”

“Taking off again?” Gabriel nodded without a smile, and Sam sighed.

“Yeah,” he said and went to the cupboard to retrieve a mug for himself.

“Would you like to explain something?” Desmond said calmly behind his back, and Sam turned his head to look at him.

“What?” he said with a small frown, thinking that it had something to do with last night.

“Well,” Desmond sighed and put his paper away. “I went to get my sunglasses out of my car this morning...” he dragged on his cigarette. “What the hell is that smell?”

“Oh...” Sam completely forgot about ‘Winter Garden Apple.’ “It’s still there, huh?”

“It made me dizzy,” Desmond nodded. “Seriously, what the hell is that?”

“It’s called ‘Winter Garden Apple’ and it’s an air freshener... See, the inside of your car stank...”

“No,” Desmond said pointedly. “It didn’t stink. It slightly smelled of smoke, but it stinks now, thanks to you!”

“It stank,” Sam nodded and filled his mug with coffee. “This house slightly smells of smoke; your car smelled like something died in there... I wasn’t sure if Eve would end up in that car or not, which she did,” he nodded again. “So I decided to cover up that dreadful smell.”

“By something even more dreadful?” Desmond narrowed his eyes. “Kid, if that girl liked the smell, then something is very wrong with her sinuses...”

“She hated it,” Sam nodded. “But at least, it didn’t make her nauseous, which the previous smell would. Next time just refill your own tank!” Sam grimaced after Desmond kept staring at him without blinking. “You are welcome, by the way!”

Desmond grumbled something under his breath that Sam didn’t hear, but he decided against asking what it was. He set his mug on the counter after seeing Specter charging inside the house full speed. The dog tried slowing down, but the momentum was too great, so he ended up sliding on the uncarpeted kitchen floor, and bumping into Sam’s knees rather hard.

“Hey!” Sam laughed after he managed to keep his balance by grabbing onto the counter. “You okay?”

“I guess he is not jealous anymore,” Desmond picked up the paper again.

“I took a shower,” Sam grinned and kneeled in front of the dog, letting the wet tongue frantically wash all over his face.

“Ugh,” was all Desmond said before returning to his paper. “Son of a bitch!” he grimaced a minute later and threw the paper on the floor.

“What?” Gabriel lightly shoved Sam aside, reaching for a coffee mug.

“Can’t read or watch anything lately without being reminded at least once about the damn Guardians!” Desmond said irritably, letting Rayhe to refill his mug. “Seriously,” he continued after several seconds. “That shit is everywhere! ‘Guardians this...’ and ‘Guardians that...’ I can’t stand it anymore... I swear, the next time someone mentions something about the damn Guardians, I am going to kill them on the spot!”

Sam started to cough rather loudly.

“You okay, kid?” Desmond frowned.

“Yeah,” Sam nodded and got up, causing Specter to snort angrily. “Drank too fast...”

“You sure you didn’t choke on that dog’s tongue?” Desmond looked at the dog with a small frown. “That thing is brutal!”

“I am okay,” Sam nodded again. “Well, I’m gonna go now...”

“Dare I ask what time you gonna be home tonight?” Gabriel said mildly.

“Before midnight,” Sam nodded firmly. “I promise...! Umm, Desmond...” he paused before walking out of the kitchen. “Why do you dislike Guardians so much?”

“Dislike?” Desmond snorted and stabbed his cigarette in the ashtray. “I don’t dislike them, kid. I bloody hate them! Arrogant, pompous assholes who think they are better than everyone else just because they are Claudia’s lapdogs! All that fuss over that traitorous fuckhead two years ago – ever since then, they won’t shut up about those damn mutts! Seriously, I am going to stop getting newspapers soon!”

“He grew up with two of them,” Gabriel said calmly.

“Really?” Sam stared at him with disbelief.

“Really,” Rayhe nodded. “Let’s just say, they didn’t get along... That dislike of his goes back a long time...”

“Huh,” Sam said very thoughtfully, thinking that he'd better keep the fact that he met Blair (and was on his way to see him right now) all to himself for the time being. If Desmond finds out that Sam is hanging out with the Fire Guardian... Sam blinked several times, thinking that he knew the man’s temper rather well by now, and that he didn’t want to deal with that temper any time soon. He knew that Desmond would never do anything to hurt him; but he could get pissed off enough to cause a very serious face-off between him and Blair. The results would be disastrous for both of them, Sam knew that. Just because Desmond couldn’t control any elements, didn’t make him any less lethal.

“I... Umm... I’m gonna go now...” he nodded once more.

“See you tonight, kid,” Desmond said absent-mindedly, half-closing his eyes when Gabriel’s fingers started playing with his hair.

“You can...” Sam coughed. “You can lock Specter in my room, he’ll just go to sleep...” Both men threw him identically-quick glances. “He doesn’t mind being there alone,” Sam said with a small shrug. “As long as it’s not outside, he is fine...”

He snorted when Gabriel left Desmond’s hair alone, grabbed the dog’s collar, and dragged him towards Sam’s bedroom.

“Right...” Sam muttered. “Later, guys!”

He walked outside, and the last thing he heard before he shut the door was:

“You bark, you die, do you understand me?”

He grinned and walked towards his own car this time. He slightly paused by the open window of Desmond’s vehicle, and winced when he smelled the damn apple. The scent wasn’t as strong as it was last night, but it was still strong enough to make his eyes water.

****

He parked by Blair’s house at 11:45 and sat in the car for several minutes, firmly telling himself that he was only going to give the man his phone back, and that he was not going to start blushing again. Finally, he took a deep breath, pulled the keys out of the ignition, and got out of the car.

He rang the doorbell so carefully, as if he was afraid that the button was made out of some extremely fragile material.

“Come in!” he heard a yell from the inside. “It’s open! Come in...!”

Sam carefully pushed the door open and walked inside.

“Umm, Blair...?” he called. “It’s me, Sam...”

“I know,” he heard. “Come in, I am in the kitchen... Ow! Goddammit!”

Sam frowned, kicked off his sneakers, and went towards the kitchen. His eyes widened when he saw piles of dirty dishes and empty soda cans all over the counter. Blair was standing by the kitchen window, his thumb in his mouth, his expression furious and miserable at the same time.

“You okay?” Sam asked carefully.

“Mmm,” was the response he got.

“What happened?” Sam walked a little closer. Blair sighed and pulled his thumb out of his mouth.

“I almost chopped my damn thumb off,” he said gloomily, demonstrating the wounded digit.

Sam blinked when he saw blood streaming down his palm.

“What the hell did you do?” he frowned. “Used an ax?”

“No,” the other man snorted. “I was opening the can of mushrooms...” he nodded at the counter.

“You managed to do it with a can opener?” Sam asked incredulously. “Good God, how...? I mean, those things are completely safe!”

“Not with the can opener,” Blair rolled his eyes. “I am not that desperate... With the lid,” he said as gloomily as before. “Had no idea the damn thing was so sharp...”

Sam suppressed a very strong desire to say ‘Duh!’ Instead, he grabbed a paper towel and walked closer to the gloomy Fire Guardian.

“Give me your hand,” he sighed. “Just give me your hand...” he repeated patiently when Blair just stood there, watching him suspiciously.

Finally, the other man reluctantly stretched out his hand, as if afraid that Sam was going to finish the job of cutting off his thumb. Sam carefully wrapped the thin paper towel around the bleeding digit, trying to apply as much pressure as the paper would allow, soaking all the blood into the tissue that immediately turned pink.

“Do you have any disinfectant?” Sam asked after a minute, when the paper was almost completely pink.

“No,” Blair grumbled.

“Well, do you have any alcohol? Like, hard alcohol, not beer.”

“I have whisky,” the other man said. “It’s not even noon yet...”

Sam rolled his eyes.

“Not for drinking,” he said in the same patient manner. “I don’t drink. It’s for your hand.”

“In the cupboard,” Blair nodded slightly towards the said cupboard.

“Okay,” Sam muttered. “Hold this right here...”

He went to the cupboard after making sure that Blair applied enough pressure through the soaked paper towel, opened the doors, and found a half-empty bottle of whisky deep inside. He pulled the bottle out and unscrewed the cap.

“How hard did you grab the lid?” he asked with genuine curiosity. “That cut is pretty serious...”

“Not that hard,” Blair shrugged.

“Apparently, hard enough,” Sam shook his head. “You don’t have any cotton balls, do you?”

“No,” he received the answer he expected.

“All right,” he sighed again, grabbed another paper towel, folded it into a thick square, and soaked it with whisky. “Okay,” he said after a minute and threw a quick glance at Blair, whose expression was wary. “This will sting a little, okay?”

Blair watched him taking the soaked with blood paper off his thumb with a small frown. Sam looked up at him again.

“Just a little sting...” he muttered and pressed the whisky-soaked paper square against the cut.

Blair’s entire body jerked the minute that square made contact with his hand.

“Son of a...” he hissed. “A little sting?!”

“Just hold still...” Sam muttered, grabbing onto his wrist harder. “Seriously, hold still! Is this the first time you cut yourself?”

“No,” Blair hissed. “I just never poured flaming liquids down my cuts before...”

“Well,” Sam muttered, trying to keep the man’s wrist in his possession – a thing that was quite difficult due to the fact that Blair was all but kicking him away right now. “You are lucky you didn’t get anything infected...”

“Goddammit...” Blair finally succeeded in pulling his wrist free. “Sam, I don’t get infected, okay? Ow!” He pulled the whisky-soaked paper away from his hand and threw it out of the window. Sam blinked at that. “People like me don’t get infected or sick, okay?”

“People like you...” Sam repeated with confusion.

“Yeah,” Blair shoved his cut-free hand into his pocket and dug in there for a minute. “People with abilities... You should know,” he glanced at Sam.

“I am not someone with abilities,” Sam frowned, feeling like an idiot.

“Yeah, you are,” Blair grumbled and pulled a handkerchief out of his pocket. “Just because your ability seems somewhat insignificant compared to some, doesn’t make you any different... When was the last time you had a cold?”

Sam watched his futile efforts to wrap that handkerchief around his thumb. Finally, he sighed, grabbed the thin cloth, and pushed Blair’s hand away.

“The last time I had a cold was...” he started saying patiently while wrapping the handkerchief around the bleeding digit, and then he stopped talking and frowned thoughtfully. He could not remember the last time he had a cold. Come to think of it, he could not remember getting sick ever.

“Can’t remember, can you?” Blair hemmed, watching him making a neat knot after he wrapped the cloth around his thumb. “Okay, remember the last time you got seriously hurt?”

Sam blinked. Now that he remembered a little too well.

“How fast did you heal after that happened?” Blair frowned slightly, seeing his expression.

Sam blinked again. In fact, he did heal fast. He always healed fast; his father would always laugh and say that it was a bonus. The minute he thought of his father, his stomach slightly churned.

“You okay?” Blair frowned deeper.

“Yeah,” Sam breathed and looked up with a weak smile. “Yeah, I am okay... And yes, I healed fast. I just never thought about it,” he shrugged and looked outside.

“Well,” Blair shrugged lightly. “Consider it a gift, Sam. I know I do,” he grinned when Sam shifted his gaze towards him.

“I guess it is neat,” Sam said thoughtfully and smiled again. Blair liked this smile a lot better than the one before.

“I’d say,” Blair nodded. “Why the hell did you take off your shoes?” he asked a few seconds later, his forehead wrinkling with a very confused frown.

“I usually take my shoes off when I am inside the house,” Sam shrugged.

Blair looked at him without a smile.

“Sam,” he said seriously. “Look around... Do you really believe that taking off your shoes in my house is a very smart idea?”

Sam blinked and then laughed. Yeah, the house was beyond messy.

“Seriously,” Blair shook his head. “You’d probably be much safer if you kept them on...”

“Safer,” Sam repeated. “Don’t tell me that there is something on your floor that can actually attack my feet!”

“You never know,” Blair shrugged as seriously as before. “Some things can breed themselves out of thin air, it seems. Wouldn’t surprise me a single bit.”

Sam laughed again, feeling better now.

“You don’t believe in cleaning, do you?” he asked.

“I do,” Blair nodded melancholically. “I just don’t believe in doing it myself.”

“I could help you if you want...” Sam started saying and shut his mouth when he saw Blair’s look. “What?” he asked with confusion.

“You cleaning my house?” Blair said incredulously. “Oh, hell, no!”

“Why not?” Sam frowned slightly. “I do it at home all the time, it’s not a big deal... I mean, it’s not like...”

“Sam,” Blair interrupted him and put his hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “You will never clean my house, okay?”

“Oh...” Sam thought that he finally got it. “You don’t want me to see something private, huh...?”

He stopped talking once he saw yet another incredulous look. Now Blair looked like he was about to call him a dumbass, which was probably the case.

“No,” the older man said very patiently. “I don’t want you to clean my house because it’s a big dumpster...” He sighed. “You are a clean freak, aren’t you?”

“Umm...” Sam said, perfectly aware of the fact that Blair’s hand was still on his shoulder. “Not really,” he said carefully. “I just...” he thought for a second. “I just like it when it’s clean,” he finished.

“You are a clean freak,” Blair nodded firmly. “That’s all right,” he sighed when he saw Sam blink somewhat rapidly at that. “There are worse things in life than being a clean freak... You hungry?”

Sam’s eyes immediately darted towards the infamous can of mushrooms, and Blair laughed and took his hand off Sam’s shoulder. Sam was relieved and disappointed at the same time.

“Not that,” he said and walked to the counter. He took the can, and for a second, Sam thought that he was about to throw it out of the window just like he did with the paper towel earlier. It seemed like the thought had crossed Blair’s mind, but he threw a very quick glance at Sam, let out a small sigh, and shoved the can into a very full trashcan next to the wall.

“Go put your shoes on,” he said and grabbed his car keys from the top of the fridge. “There is a deli called Pure Luck; that place serves great food.”

“Never heard of it,” Sam said and went back to the front door where he left his sneakers.

“It’s a bit far away,” Blair followed him. “But it’s totally worth the drive. You are not in a hurry, are you?”

“No,” Sam said after getting both sneakers on. “Not at all,” he added without knowing exactly why.

“Good,” Blair said, and he sounded relieved. “Because there is a bowling alley not too far from the deli... You like bowling?”

“I do,” Sam nodded. “I suck at it, but I like it nevertheless.”

“I like it and I don’t suck at it,” Blair said seriously, and Sam laughed at that.