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"Do I want to know?"
Mark smiled self-consciously, and not a little damply, at Nicholas. Soaking wet and wrapped in an emergency blanket was not how Nicholas had expected him to arrive home. Luckily he didn't believe in a higher power or he might have thought this was retribution for not having told Mark about breaking his arm before turning up with his arm in cast and sling. He, however, had been working while Mark had just been down the damn park.
"He fell in the river," Azzam clarified helpfully, "can I watch TV?"
"Homework?" Mark asked.
"Done everything for Monday. Except for history - and you said you'd help me with that." Azzam looked at his adoptive father accusingly.
Mark looked ready to argue the point but he was also shivering. It was, Nicholas decided, definitely time to intervene.
"Mark," he touched Mark's elbow gently, "go get a hot shower before you catch a chill." He got mutinous looks from both sides. Ignoring Mark for the moment he looked at Azzam, "he'll help you when he's changed."
That seemed to do the trick. "And you've made him tell you what happened," Azzam suggested cheekily and ran into the front room before anyone could specify what he had to do while he was waiting. The sound of the television immediately followed.
Mark took half a step in the direction of the room but Nicholas held him back.
"Don't bother," he advised, "he'll be fine while you get sorted. Let him do something comfortable while the fact you're not hurt settles in. You can have a word with him when you aren't dripping on the carpet."
He shepherded Mark up the stairs, noting the large damp patch on the back of the blanket where the water had seeped through.
"You don't trust me to do anything, do you?" Mark said over his shoulder. There was more fond affection in his voice than complaint so Nicholas did not take the accusation seriously.
"Including not fall in rivers apparently."
"I didn't fall in - I jumped."
Nicholas held open the bedroom door "And that makes it better?"
They stared at each other on the threshold of the room.
"There was this child, he fell in..." Mark explained, "I was closest..."
Nicholas shut his eyes and didn't sigh. At least the publicity would be positive. Mark wouldn't be Mark without the occasional lapses in good sense, and he wouldn't have him any other way. It kept life interesting.
"I'll find you some clothes," he offered, letting the door swing closed behind Mark and heading for the chest of drawers. He could do that at least with his arm in plaster.
"Nicholas," he turned around at his name, surprised Mark was still standing there "I couldn't..."
"I know," Nicholas stopped him. He couldn't help but smile as Mark dripped at him. "Get in the shower."
Mark shed his damp clothes quickly, blanket and t-shirt discarded before he had even made it to the en-suite bathroom. Nicholas waited until he heard the shower come on before he resumed his search. He piled up underwear and the comfiest trousers and sweatshirt he could find, recognising with a smile the old, worn set that Mark would wear around the house at weekends when no pressing business demanded his public appearance.
He entered the bathroom intending just to put the clothing somewhere out of the way but available but Mark's "talk to me" stopped him.
"About what?" has asked, leaning against the wall and using the opportunity to take a good look at the slices of flesh revealed through the gap in the shower curtain.
The blurred figure paused, turning towards him and offered him a different glimpse. "Anything," Mark said.
Nicholas considered that. "How about the importance of letting your highly trained security do their job."
Mark pulled back the curtain just far enough to stick his head out. "Anything," he said distinctly, "except that."
"The situation in Afghanistan?" Nicholas offered. Mark ducked back into the hot spray, the flesh-tint shadow play revealing his movements as he scrubbed at his hair. "The latest economics forecast? How much I wish I could get in that shower with you."
Nicholas tried not to grin as Mark froze for a second.
"The financial sectors in Europe are more unsettled than even the current climate can account for," Nicholas went on as if he had never left the subject. "Something's in the works but I don't know what yet."
"Nicholas," Mark's voice had a dangerous calmness to it. Dangerous because Azzam was downstairs and Nicholas still had the bloody cast, as if he could forget.
"The tensions in the north of Afghanistan..," Nicholas began again.
"Bastard," Mark muttered, just loud enough to be heard over the rush of water. "You're enjoying this," he said louder.
Nicholas repositioned the clothes he was holding to the arm with the sling, reaching down with his free hand he shifted the growing weight of his erection to a more comfortable position. "Yes," he admitted. "Although not as much as I could be... And probably more than I should. Maybe I better let you get on?"
"Or," Mark looked around the curtain again, "you could go and check that Azzam is okay and then come back here and tell me exactly what you would rather be doing."
"Mark?"
"Only if you wanted," Mark said diffidently, turning back to the shower.
"I only meant were you sure?" Nicholas said, his voice soft.
"Go," Mark ordered, "I'll be waiting."
Nicholas dumped the clothes of the toilet cover and went.
Azzam looked up as he came in, dark eyes watching his every move. The television was going but Nicholas doubted Azzam had truly been watching it. Not unless he had developed a sudden interest in British country life.
"Hey," he offered.
Azzam looked from him to the doorway behind him. "Mark coming down?"
"In a minute," Nicholas assured him lightly, "He's just getting the rest of that river off him."
Azzam went silent and Nicholas waited.
"Is he..." Azzam paused, clearly regrouping his thoughts. "Is Mark's okay?" Nicholas could see a shadow of the same fear that had been on Azzam's face when he had first seen Nicholas' arm. "The doctors said he was but..."
Nicholas sat down on the sofa next to him, meeting his questioning gaze easily. This would be harder when Azzam was older and realised that Nicholas was perfectly capable of doing just that and lying through his teeth but, hopefully, they could put that day off for as long as possible.
"Mark's fine," Nicholas assured him, and that was, at least, the truth. "A little bedraggled... wet... but otherwise fine." And then the difficult bit. "You understand why he had to do it?"
Azzam nodded. Nicholas was not entirely sure he believed it. Not that the kid didn't need saving, but why Mark had to be the one to do it. Why Azzam had had to watch him in the water chasing a drowning child under the surface without the innocent surety of inexperience telling him it was going to be alright.
"You know you're the most important thing to him," Nicholas said carefully.
"Other than you."
"Including me," Nicholas corrected him.
Azzam stared at him and Nicholas dipped his head briefly, non-verbal confirmation of both his statement and his total agreement with Mark's position. How much of that Azzam understood he couldn't be sure. He just hoped it was enough.
"Aren't you ever," Azzam looked away and Nicholas thought he saw the faintest flush of embarrassment discolour his face, "aren't you ever afraid?"
"About Mark?" Nicholas clarified. He couldn't help but smile at that. "Every day," he agreed.
Azzam thought about that.
"What do you do?"
"Nothing." Nicholas smiled at the blatant disbelief on Azzam's face. "Nothing," he repeated. It was mostly true. "He's afraid for you as well, you know?"
"For me?" Azzam said confused and diverted, "why?"
That one was easy to answer. "Because he cares."
Azzam frowned.
"If he cares so much why did he jump in the river?" The words were said angrily but Nicholas could see he regretted them the moment they were out of his mouth.
It was tempting to let it go, pretend it hadn't been said and let Azzam forget the embarrassment of having done so.
"In a few years," Nicholas told him obliquely, "Mark is going to spend a lot of the time asking himself why you are doing the things that you are doing." If he had been Mark he would have reached out and touched Azzam, placed a hand on the dark strands of his hair or around his shoulders and let him feel the physical weight of reassurance. Instead he asked "will that mean you care about him less?"
"I'm not going to do anything stupid," Azzam declared staunchly and with all the belief of someone who had yet to understand why teenagers acted the way they did.
Nicholas would let him keep that illusion for a while, there were some things that had to be experienced to be understood. "We'll see," was all he said.
Azzam went quiet again but, to Nicholas' eye, it was a true calm not the false cover that had been there before. Mark would need to talk to him but that had to come later when Azzam was ready. They were too close - they had been since James had died. It was probably lucky for both of them that Mark had the sense to realise it and not to press, or to get insulted that Azzam was willing to be more open with relative strangers than with him.
Azzam's looked the clock on the wall and fidgeted slightly.
"Nicholas..?" he asked, a slightly wheedling note creeping into his voice.
It was hard not to be suspicious, the question was what he needed to be suspicious about. "Yes?"
"Maybe you should go and talk to Mark," Azzam suggested with all the guile of a bulldozer, "tell him he makes you worry."
Nicholas didn't allow himself to smile, seeing where this was headed. "Why would I tell him that?" he played along.
Azzam thought about that for a moment. "Maybe he'll stop?"
"And what," Nicholas asked, "would you do while I was talking to him?"
"Uh..." Azzam looked around. Everywhere, except at Nicholas. "I could watch TV..?" he offered hopefully.
Nicholas gave up the pretence. "What was it you were hoping to watch?"
Azzam looked a little shifty but answered easily enough. "Merlin is on soon."
"How soon is soon?" Nicholas would have liked nothing more than to back upstairs with Mark but there were still limits.
"Half an hour," Azzam admitted.
It didn't take long to come to a decision.
"If I get Mark to let you watch Merlin, you'll do your homework right after?"
Azzam looked at him gratefully but not quite ready to believe his luck. "You'll help me with it?"
Or just not sure he wanted the space he had bargained for now that he had been promised it.
"We both will," Nicholas promised.
"Okay." Azzam smiled and this time Nicholas believed it.
"I better go and negotiate your postponement." He stood up, squeezing Azzam's shoulder briefly.
"Nicholas?" Azzam said as he reached the doorway. Nicholas stopped and looked back. "You should still tell him not to make you worry."
"I'll do that," he agreed, not meaning a word of it. Still the warm feeling stayed with him as he walked upstairs.
Following the sound of the shower he wandered into the bathroom, feeling the warm feeling bloom into something more, into something else, at the sight before him. Through the gap in the cloth he could see Mark washing, strong fingers confidently soaping chest and arms. The light mineral scent of the shower-gel was carried on the steam, replacing the damp, malignant memory of river water. He tapped lightly on the bathroom door to announce his presence.
Mark looked over, letting the water sluice the soap away. "You took your time. I was beginning to think I had been deserted."
Nicholas leant against the wall, carefully choosing somewhere which offered the best view behind the shower curtain. "I had to talk to Azzam."
"Is he okay?" Mark's hand was on the shower controls in an instant, ready to turn it off and hurry downstairs.
"Relax, Mark," Nicholas stopped him, "he's fine. Just a little worried."
"Maybe I should..." Nicholas could the worry and indecision in Mark's voice.
"Later." Nicholas wished he could go to Mark then. "I promised to keep you out of his hair until Merlin was over."
He could see Mark's surprise in the tense line of his shoulders but all he said was "oh?".
"I'm supposed to talk to you about not making me... by which you can read him... worried."
Mark's hand fell from the controls to hang by his side once more. "I'm not entirely sure what I am supposed to think about that."
"Mark," Nicholas said insistently, "you are supposed to think that your son, while worried about seeing his father in danger, is using the opportunity to put off doing his homework and to watch TV. You should be proud. You should also be proud that once he's done that he wants to reassure himself by spending time with you - even if that means doing his homework. For all I'd much rather you stopped acting first and thinking later, I rather think you can count today as a win. Now, are you about finished?"
"Nearly."
Mark squirted some of the shower gel into his hand and reached down to his groin.
Nicholas smirked. "Looks like I came back at just the right time. If you could just move to the left a little more and keep doing that."
"Left?" Mark asked, confused.
"Gives me a better view." Nicholas let his gaze run over what he could see of the water-slick skin, slight pink from the warmth of the shower. They were neither of them in the first bloom of youth, bodies betraying the lives they had lead. And better for it in Nicholas' opinion. He had spent his early adulthood surrounded by hard, fit bodies and had found the attraction of hard, fit minds much more compelling as experience had lent maturity to age.
As the water washed the suds away, Nicholas was rewarded with a brief glimpse of Mark's hands as they ran over his filling cock. Deliberately now that hygiene was replaced by the sure knowledge of Nicholas' regard. Nicholas caught his breath, feeling his own body respond in kind.
"You really have no shame, do you?" Mark said, laughter and something more carnal colouring his voice. The accusation was undermined by the continued movement of his hand, steady and rhythmic in it's grip of the now firm flesh.
"It's never been a virtue I felt a need to cultivate," Nicholas murmured, "when others have served me much better."
"Are those virtues?" A slight patina of breathlessness had layered itself over the otherwise steady tone of Mark's question.
"If it wasn't for this cast," Nicholas promised, "I'd have a much more convincing answer for you."
"I don't think I've ever heard you be anything less than convincing."
"Thank you," Nicholas appreciated the slight irony of that praise. "Then you can imagine how much more convincing I would be if I was there with you." He thought he heard Mark's breath hitch and continued, "running my hands over every," he stressed the word, "inch. I can't help but wonder if I'd still taste the sweat of your skin through the shower, it's a small thing I know but I've always been very detail orientated."
"Really?" Mark choked.
"Just imagine how good it would feel... soap-slicked skin moving against yours, my body, my fingers, my lips... tell me, Mark, what do you think of when you touch yourself?" Mark made a little indistinct sound. "Is that my hand that works you? Do you imagine me wrapped behind you, reaching round to stroke you while I stroke myself against you. Or in you." Nicholas couldn't keep his hands off himself any longer, gripping himself through the loose material of his trousers. "Or is it something else? Should I tell you how inviting your cock looks right now? How much I'd like to run my tongue over the head. Suck it down..."
"Jesus, Nicholas!"
Nicholas grinned to himself, what he could see of Mark was flushed, his breathing harsh even over the sound of the water. His rubbed along the length of his own erection slowly, enjoying himself too much to do more than take the edge off his need.
"You want to come, Mark? Go on. So I can see how damn good you look. Just how fuckable and wild. Because I'm touching myself over here and watching you... knowing you are thinking about me... knowing you want me..."
Nicholas couldn't quite see Mark's orgasm hit, but he could see the sudden jerkiness of his actions and hear the slight grunt of effort. He watched Mark's face, enjoying the blissed out almost shocked expression that gripped his features. He hadn't needed to exaggerate too much in his description, Mark did look good like that. Beneath his hand his cock twitched at the sight.
Mark barely took the time to towel off more than the clinging spray before he was pressed against Nicholas, mindful only of the sling and it's restrained contents, and kissing him hard. Nicholas welcomed him, arching into the contact of the hard body. Mark's mouth was hot against his, wet, open, dirty kisses that spoke of more than physical need. Nicholas ran his hand over the shower-warmed flesh, so vital and alive. His fingers dig into the taut muscles of Mark's arse, dragging him closer. The flurry of passion couldn't last but while it did Nicholas was going to ring every enjoyment from it.
Mark drew back eventually, breathing hard and eyes alight. He slipped his hand between their bodies, idly stroking the bulk of Nicholas' erection.
"I should..." Mark breathed regretfully.
Nicholas shut his eyes for a moment, promising his aching cock that he would see to it as soon as Mark left. He nodded.
"Nicholas," Mark said. Nicholas looked up at him as he stood in the bathroom doorway. "You better get out of those clothes." Mark threw a grin over his shoulder as he walked away. "You seem to have got a bit wet."
Nicholas stared at him for a moment, hardly able to believe he had fallen for it. For a second his grin was feral. He tackled Mark before he had gone more than a few paces, baring them both to the bed. When he hadn't been sucker punched Nicholas could take Mark even with one hand tied behind his back - or in front of his chest, as the case may have been. When he had assured himself, thoroughly, that Mark had not taken any injury anywhere with his unscheduled swim, Nicholas set about proving it.
They made it down for the end of Merlin. Barely.