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Honestly, that sounds so fun. Also, I may have gotten my hands on human weed. If you have the inclination.

Rusty had never gotten high before. He’d seen the effects of harder drugs while living on the street, and no matter how desperate he’d gotten, he’d been lucky enough to resist taking that form of escape.

Plus, he didn’t like feeling out of control, which was why he didn’t get drunk often either.

But human marijuana was pretty tame, so he wasn’t opposed to trying it.

Maybe. I don’t think you should smoke right now, though.

I wasn’t talking about now. Getting high in my current state would be awful. I was just putting it out there for the future.

Still feeling bad?

It’s like a terrible hangover that won’t leave. I’m starving, but I’m nervous to eat anything. I hate throwing up.

So did Rusty. Even as a kid, he’d preferred a fever over an upset stomach. Though his mom’s Pyclese soup with noodles and bone marrow broth had always settled his stomach when he got the flu .

Like everything else from his childhood, the family recipe had been lost long ago, but he knew it was a standard dish. He searched the Pyclese delis nearby and scrolled through their menus. Most of them offered bone broth, or something similar.

You home?

Not yet. Getting ready to leave Toni’s now. He’s insisting on accompanying me. I love him, but sometimes, he’s a bit much.

Coming from you, that’s saying something.

Trust me, I know!

As the afternoon turned to evening, Rusty finished the page he was working on, then stared down at his phone at the Pyclese deli located halfway between his flat and Gem’s. Before he could sack out, Rusty crawled out of bed and got dressed, then locked his bedroom door on his way out.

Summer was practically upon the Pentagram, and even though the sun was lowering in the sky, it was still warm.

Rusty strolled through Lust, hands in his pockets, earphones blasting a human punk band singing a language he didn’t understand—something called German. But he liked the music all the same.

He stopped at the deli and ordered a large container of bone broth soup to go.

The girl behind the counter flirted with him, even going so far as to write her number on the receipt, but he wouldn’t be calling her.

She was pretty, but he wasn’t interested in casual sex and dating held a similar lack of appeal .

Not that he wanted to be alone the rest of his life, but he also didn’t think he was relationship material.

He was an ex-sex worker, which was an immediate turn-off for a lot of people, and he wasn’t very nice or pleasant to be around.

So he didn’t think he could offer much in the emotional support area.

And though he had the skills, he usually lacked the drive to fulfill a partner’s sexual needs.

At first, his self-imposed celibacy had been a welcome relief after leaving Flesh Street.

But then years passed, and he still felt very little urge to go out and fuck random people.

Maybe there was something wrong with him; maybe something in him was broken because, when it came to sex, he just didn’t get it.

Sure, on a purely physical level, it could feel good. But his left hand got the job done just fine, and it was quicker, easier, and safer. Everyone’s obsession with sex baffled him, honestly. It just didn’t seem worth all the effort and hoops people jumped through to get it.

So no, he wouldn’t be calling the cute Pyclon girl behind the counter. Hopefully, she didn’t hold it against him.

Ten minutes later, Rusty stood in front of Gem’s door, fist raised to knock.

He hesitated. Gem was already feeling smothered by Toni’s mothering.

Would he be annoyed that Rusty had shown up without asking?

He probably should have texted first. Maybe he should leave the soup on the mat and then text Gem that it was there.

Except that would be weirder, right? Significantly weirder.

So he knocked.

It took Gem a while to answer, his footsteps heavy and shuffling on the other side of the door.

But then he opened it, rubbing his four right eyes with a top hand.

Dressed in a pair of capri sweats and an oversized hoodie that swamped him, he looked tired and somehow small, even as he towered over Rusty.

“Rus?” Gem straightened, blinking in a wave as he cocked his head. “What are you doing here?”

Already regretting this, Rusty held up the plastic bag. “Soup.”

“Huh?”

“You said you were hungry, but it was hard keeping things down,” he said, staring at the hoodie strings dangling down Gem’s chest. “I thought this soup would help.”

“Oh,” Gem said, quiet as a whisper, a middle hand reaching out to take the soup Rusty offered.

“M’kay, that’s it,” Rusty said, rubbing at his notched ear. “See you at work tomorrow.”

Before he’d managed even a few steps, a hand circled his wrist, stopping him. “You’re leaving?”

Studying Gem over his shoulder, Rusty nodded. “Figured Toni was smothering you enough.”

“Toni’s not here. I made him go home,” Gem said, offering a weak smile as he lifted the bag holding the soup. “I can’t eat all this by myself. Stay.”

His request was punctuated by a gentle tug on Rusty’s wrist. Rusty’s head told him to keep walking, but his feet were already moving toward Gem’s door. Because the soup smelled really good, and he hadn’t eaten in a while. And he didn’t want the soup to go to waste.

That weary smile brightened, and something in Rusty’s chest lurched as Gem’s hand slid down to curl around his paw.

It reminded Rusty of the way Gem had clung to his hand like a lifeline Friday night, like he’d needed Rusty close for some reason.

His scalp was prickling now, like it had then, and his heart was beating faster .

Usually, he didn’t like it when people touched him, but it wasn’t so bad when Gem did it.

Gem’s skin was thick and tough, like all Araknis, but his palm was soft from the lotion he used, his long fingers gentle as they shifted to slip between Rusty’s claws.

Like it was entirely normal for them to touch this way.

Rusty liked it. At least, he thought he did, but his heart was beating too fast now, and he was hot and prickly all over, and he couldn’t quite inhale.

Jerking away from the intimate touch, he cleared his throat and shut the door behind him, avoiding Gem’s perceptive gaze.

He stepped closer to the wall, adding much needed distance so his chest could unwind, and Gem slipped his many hands, except for the ones holding the soup, into his hoodie pocket.

Gem didn’t touch him again, and for some insane reason, Rusty wished he had.