Page 12

M om's voice carried through the front door as she and Tatty returned from their shopping trip, the rustle of bags mixing with Tatty's distinctive laugh. I tightened my grip on Leo's hip where he'd fallen asleep against me on the couch, a wave of possessiveness washing through me at the sight of him so vulnerable in my arms. My fingers traced over the faint welts the wax had left behind, carefully avoiding the spots where I'd applied healing salve earlier.

I'd never been one for aftercare with previous partners. It was always just another tactical phase, perfunctory and efficient. But with Leo, cleaning away the wax, soothing his marked skin, watching him melt into my touch... That had been different. Intimate in ways the actual play hadn't been. Maybe even better than the sex itself. There was something oddly satisfying about tending to the marks I'd left on him, about being gentle after being cruel.

His breath was still slightly uneven, small sounds escaping whenever I touched the sensitive places. The memory of him surrendering to my care, eyes half-closed as I'd applied the salve across his reddened skin, burned through me like a shot of whiskey. Two years of keeping him at a calculated distance had shattered in days, and now I couldn't imagine not having him pressed against me. And yet, there was something unsettling about how quickly he'd become essential. How vulnerable it made me feel. How terrified I was of fucking this up before we'd even defined what "this" was.

"Xavier?" Mom called. "Are you home?"

"Living room," I called back, not bothering to move Leo from where he was basically draped over my lap. Let them see. Let everyone see exactly who he belonged to now.

And yet—a small voice at the back of my mind whispered an uncomfortable truth: did I actually deserve this? To have someone like Leo looking at me the way he did? The doubt was unfamiliar, unsettling. I pushed it away, focusing instead on his warm weight against me.

Mom appeared in the doorway, still juggling shopping bags from their afternoon out. Her eyes softened at the sight of us tangled together on the couch. "You two look comfortable."

I shrugged, trying to appear casual despite the fierce protectiveness I felt with Leo curled against me. She knew me well enough to see through it. She always had.

Leo stirred against me, blinking sleepily as he registered Mom's presence. The flush that spread across his cheeks made something in my chest tighten. Even after everything we'd done, there was still something beautifully innocent about him.

"Sorry, Mrs. Laskin," he mumbled, starting to sit up. "I didn't mean to fall asleep down here."

"It's Annie, sweetheart," she corrected gently. "And don't apologize. You clearly needed the rest." Her gaze flicked to me, something knowing in her eyes. "Actually, since you're both here—the family's coming over for dinner tonight."

I tensed, instinctively tightening my grip on Leo. The whole family meant Leo was about to get grilled. Shepherd would tear into Leo's mind with the same clinical precision he used on his patients. Warrick would slice him open figuratively, measuring Leo against whatever precise standard existed in his head. And River... fuck, River hated everyone except Theo. He'd probably just glare from the corner and make those little cutting comments that could flay someone alive.

"Whole family?" Leo's voice was small against my leg.

"Perfect timing," Tatty said, appearing behind Mom. "Everyone should see how happy you two are. How good you are together."

"Don't harass them, Tatty," Mom said, but she was smiling. "Though I have to say, it's nice to see you both looking so..."

"Disgustingly content," Tatty finished for her. "Must be love."

"Oh god." Leo's voice was muffled against my leg. "Please kill me now."

I pulled him closer, tugging the sleeves of my hoodie down over his hands the way he liked, making sure he was completely enveloped in my scent.

"Are you sure you want me here for this?" Leo asked quietly as we headed toward the kitchen. "Meeting the whole family is a big deal. This feels... official."

The hesitation in his voice made me pause. "You've met most of them before."

"Not like this." His eyes dropped to our intertwined fingers. "Not as your..."

He trailed off, the unfinished sentence hanging between us. Not as my what? Boyfriend? Partner? Possession? The lack of a clear definition suddenly felt like a gaping hole between us.

"As my Leo," I finished for him, the words feeling inadequate but honest. "Just be yourself. They'll love you."

"But what if they don't?"

"Then they’ll answer to me," I growled.

The tension in his shoulders eased slightly, but uncertainty still lingered in his eyes. "I just... I don't want to screw this up. Whatever this is."

"You won't."

The voices in the kitchen grew louder, my siblings' distinctive tones carrying through the house. But for once, the thought of sharing my space didn't fill me with resentment. Because Leo was with me, grounding me in ways no one else ever had.

River's distinctive deadpan cut through the noise as he entered the living room. "If it isn't the arsonist and his new toy. Finally decided to join the living?"

Leo tensed beside me, his fingers tightening around mine. I shifted slightly, angling my body to create a barrier between him and River's cutting gaze.

"Fuck off, River," I said, already reaching into my pocket with my free hand. I pulled out one of the squishy stress balls I'd started carrying since noticing how Leo's hands got restless when he was nervous, pressing it into his palm without drawing attention to the gesture. "Or I'll tell Theo about that weird mushroom experiment you're hiding in that creepy basement of yours."

Leo slid his hand into the sleeve of the borrowed hoodie, but I knew he was squeezing the ball by how the fabric twitched.

River's lips twitched in what passed for a smile with him. He immediately claimed the couch across from us, one arm draped possessively around Theo's shoulders. "Bold of you to assume Theo doesn't already know."

"He knows about the illegal spores," Theo confirmed with a serene smile. "And he also knows about the jar under the stairs. The one with the glowing stuff."

River's eyes narrowed. "Traitor."

"Love you too." Theo's smile widened before he turned his attention to Leo. "Glad to see you survived the fire. And Xavier." The slight pause made Leo flush.

"Barely," Leo muttered, but there was humor in his voice now.

"I’m surprised you’re the first ones here," I said. “War’s usually the first one through the door.”

As if summoned by his name, the front door burst open with the unmistakable chaos that was Warrick's family's arrival.

"Mom, it’s us!" War's voice carried through the house, followed by Pax's deep laugh.

"We brought pie," Pax added, his massive frame filling the doorway as they entered the living room. His tattooed arms were loaded with gift bags and what looked like a homemade pie.

"Uncle X!" Charlie, all of five years old and already a force of nature, broke free from War's grip and launched herself at me. I caught her automatically, keeping my other arm around Leo's shoulders. "Did you bring me a pwesent?"

I felt Leo's eyes on me. Most people never saw this side of me—the Xavier who remembered his niece's favorite colors, who kept toys in his pockets just in case. The realization that he was seeing me in this new context made me feel unexpectedly exposed, as if another layer of my carefully constructed persona was being peeled away.

"Charlie," War scolded, looking immaculate as always in pressed chinos and a button-down that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe. "What have we discussed about demanding gifts?"

"But Uncle X always has toys," Charlie pouted.

"I sure do," I said with a grin and handed her the backup stress ball I'd shoved in my pocket earlier.

With the way her eyes lit up, you'd think I'd handed her a live unicorn. "Wook! Wook, Daddy! Ball!"

Lettie sauntered in behind her fathers, her twelve-year-old eyes briefly glancing up from her phone to take in Leo. "Is this your boyfriend? The one you've been stalking?"

The question made Leo choke, and I felt a flash of unexpected embarrassment. Had I been that obvious? The thought that my interest in Leo had been transparent enough for a twelve-year-old to notice made me feel strangely vulnerable.

"Jesus, Lettie," Pax murmured, but there was pride in his voice.

"It's not stalking," War corrected his daughter automatically. "It's intensive observation with romantic intent."

"Sorry I asked." Lettie rolled her eyes, thumbs still flying across her phone screen.

"That's enough, Lettie," War said, but he was fighting a smile. "Go help your grandmother in the kitchen."

"Fine," Lettie huffed, finally pocketing her phone. Then she swiveled to Leo, leveling a pointed look at him. "Break my uncle's heart and I'll remove your spleen while you watch."

Leo blinked rapidly. "That's... specific."

"She's been reading War's medical textbooks," Pax explained with a mix of resignation and pride.

"She's going to make an incredible surgeon someday," War added, beaming at his daughter as she disappeared into the kitchen.

"Or serial killer," River muttered, earning an elbow from Theo.

"Like she wouldn’t be both. My baby’s an overachiever to the max like her daddy War," Pax added proudly before crossing the room to muss my hair. "So that's what your natural hair color looks like!"

I swatted his hands away. "Fuck off. I just haven't had time to color it lately."

The front door opened again, and Shepherd entered, a bottle of expensive wine in each hand. He and Tatty spoke briefly, exchanging cheek kisses before she took the wine from him. His eyes swept the room, before settling on where Leo's fingers were intertwined with mine.

Eli strode in behind him, hands in his pockets, until Tatty threw her arms around him. Then his whole face blossomed into a warm smile.

"Leo," Shepherd acknowledged with a slight nod. "Still alive, I see. Good."

Leo stiffened slightly beside me, the memory of Shepherd holding a knife to his throat during that messy situation with the Dogs clearly not forgotten. The tension between Shepherd and anyone associated with the Junkyard Dogs never quite disappeared, even at family gatherings. I slid my hand to Leo’s lower back, finding the exact spot that always made him melt when I applied pressure there.

"Dr. Laskin," Leo replied evenly, meeting Shepherd's gaze with more backbone than most people managed. "You look... well."

I fought a smile, proud of how he stood his ground. Few people did that with Shepherd after experiencing his darker side. But then, Leo had been standing his ground with me for two years, which was probably better practice than most people got.

"Well, if it isn't the lovebirds," Xander sang out as he swept into the living room, dramatic as always in a flowing purple sundress with butterfly clips in his hair. "Ready for the full family inspection, Leo?"

Behind him, Ash Valentine merely raised an eyebrow, his expression that of a man who'd long ago accepted his fate.

"We were just leaving," I said, already pulling Leo toward the back door.

"Running away? Smart," Xander called after us. "I would too!"

Leo pressed closer against my side as we escaped, relief evident in his shoulders. The way his fingers gripped mine told me everything I needed to know about his current anxiety level.

"Where's Xion and Boone?" I asked.

"Outside with your dad and Nikita," Ash supplied, gesturing toward the back door. "They're at the grill."

"I told you that you could go out there with them if you wanted," Xander said.

"No, you said I could hang out with the other old men if I wanted."

Xander shrugged. "Same difference."

Leo shifted against me, subtly pressing closer.

"Want to grab a beer and check out the backyard?" I asked. "Escape the interrogation squad for a bit?"

Relief washed over his face. "God, yes. Please."

The soft gratitude in his voice made me want to wrap him up and carry him somewhere quiet, where it was just the two of us again. Instead, I carefully helped him up, my hand finding the small of his back as I guided him through the crowd.

"We're heading outside," I announced to no one in particular, already steering Leo toward the back door.

I kept a careful eye on Leo as we navigated through the kitchen, where Mom and Tatty were engaged in their usual choreographed chaos of meal preparation. Lettie was perched on a counter, supposedly helping but mostly stealing tastes of whatever was within reach.

"Just getting some air," I explained as Mom gave us a glance.

She smiled knowingly, already reaching for a small plate. "Take these out to your father and Nikita," she said, loading it with appetizers. "And tell them thirty minutes until dinner."

The backyard was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon, the oak trees along the fence line casting long shadows across the freshly mown grass. Dad and Nikita stood by the massive grill, chatting in Russian. The picnic tables were already set with Mom's mismatched collection of outdoor dishes, plastic cups with cartoon characters for the kids, and folding chairs that had seen too many summers.

Charlie was chasing Dani's kid Noah around the yard. He darted back and forth on wobbly toddler legs while Charlie giggled and prowled after him, pretending to be a monster. They fell into a pile of leaves, giggles carrying through the yard.

Boone and Xion sat at one of the tables, a good three feet of space between them. Anyone who didn't know them might think they were barely acquainted, let alone married. That was their way though—existing in parallel, comfortable in shared silence, their connection evident only in the occasional glance or the way Boone subtly adjusted his position whenever Xion shifted. No touching, no overt affection, just the quiet certainty of two people who didn't need physical contact to confirm what they already knew.

"Appetizer delivery," I called as we approached Dad and Nikita, setting down the plate of food. "Mom says thirty minutes."

"Which means forty-five," Dad said with a knowing grin, accepting the beer with a nod of thanks. His eyes moved to Leo, who was trying and failing to look comfortable. "How are you holding up? Getting settled in okay?"

"Yeah, so far," Leo said, falling back on politeness. "And thanks for having me over, Mr. Laskin. I really appreciate you letting me stay here."

"Just Yuri," Dad corrected automatically. "Mr. Laskin makes me feel old enough to be in one of our coffins."

Nikita turned from the grill and took in the way my hand rested on Leo's lower back, the slight tension in Leo's posture, the subtle protective angle of my body toward his. A slight smile that didn't reach his eyes curved his lips, but he said nothing.

I scanned the yard, noticing Misha sitting alone under the old oak tree, knees pulled up to his chest as he watched the chaos from a distance. He'd positioned himself with his back against the solid trunk and a clear view of both the gate and back door, the same tactical awareness I'd seen in soldiers and survivors. His eyes constantly scanned the yard, never resting on one spot for long. Despite our shopping trip the other day, he still kept to himself at family gatherings, his body language unmistakably tense beneath the oversized sweater that seemed to swallow his frame.

"Let's go check on Misha," I said to Leo, nodding toward the solitary figure. "He seems like he could use some familiar faces right now."

As we walked toward where Misha sat under the oak tree, I felt Leo's gaze on me, thoughtful and searching.

"What?" I asked, catching his look.

"It's just..." He hesitated. "Your family is so accepting. I wasn't expecting that after—well, after my own experience."

Something in his voice made me stop, turning to face him fully. "Did you think they wouldn't be?"

He shrugged, looking smaller in my oversized hoodie. "I guess I thought there'd be more questions about what happens after. When this is all over."

The idea that he saw this—us—as temporary hit like a physical blow. "Is that what you're thinking about? What comes after?"

"No," he said quickly, meeting my eyes with unexpected directness. "I'm just trying to understand what this is to you. If it matters beyond the moment."

I bristled, defensive in the face of vulnerability. But the open honesty in his expression disarmed me. Leo wasn't challenging me; he was asking for reassurance I'd never thought to offer.

"It's not temporary," I said roughly, the words feeling inadequate for what I meant. "I wouldn't have brought you here if it was."

He took my hand, fingers sliding between mine.

Misha looked up as we approached, his eyes wary but curious. His gaze flickered over our shoulders, checking for anyone who might be following, before returning to us. He pulled the sleeves of his sweater over his hands in a gesture that reminded me so much of Leo that I almost laughed. His knuckles were white where they gripped the fabric, betraying the tension his carefully blank expression tried to hide.

I slowed our approach. After everything he'd been through with Roche, sudden movements around Misha were never a good idea. The kid had spent months being treated like a living doll, drugged into compliance while a fashion designer tried to "preserve" him. Xander and I had barely gotten to him in time, and the psychological aftermath had left scars deeper than the physical ones.

"Hey Misha," I kept my voice casual as we stopped a respectful distance away. "How's it going?"

"Surviving," he answered with a slight shrug. His eyes drifted briefly to the middle distance before snapping back—a momentary dissociation I recognized from the early days after his rescue.

"How are your classes going?" Leo asked, settling in next to him on the ground. I followed, making sure to position myself where I could see anyone approaching, giving Misha one less direction to worry about monitoring.

Something changed in Misha's expression, a spark lighting his eyes. "Actually... really well. Better than I expected." He hesitated, then continued with growing animation. "I'm specializing in restorative work. You know, for open-casket viewings."

Leo tilted his head, clearly interested. "That sounds really meaningful."

Misha nodded, something almost like pride crossing his face. "It is. I work with people who've been through trauma—accidents, violence, illness that change how they look." His fingers stilled on his sleeve. "I help families see their loved ones one last time, the way they remember them."

After what Roche had done to him—treating human bodies as objects to be preserved and displayed according to his twisted aesthetic vision—Misha had found a way to reclaim that skill set for something deeply humane.

"That's... pretty incredible," I said, genuinely impressed. "Taking something horrible and using it to help people."

Misha's gaze dropped to his hands. "Roche taught me techniques I never wanted to know. How to preserve tissues, how to restructure features, how to create the illusion of life in death. Now I can use those same skills to give families closure, to let them say goodbye to someone who looks like the person they loved, not the broken body that was left behind."

Leo's expression softened. "You're re-humanizing people. After they've been dehumanized by death or trauma."

Misha looked up, surprised by how perfectly Leo had captured it. "That's... that's exactly it. I'm giving them back their humanity for one final moment."

His posture had changed as he spoke, the constant vigilance momentarily replaced by genuine passion. I'd never seen him this animated about anything since we'd rescued him.

"Did you always know this was what you wanted to do?" Leo asked.

Misha shook his head. "No. I think everyone expected me to run as far from death and preservation as possible after... after everything. But there was this moment during one of our field trips to a funeral home." He paused, gathering his thoughts. "There was this older funeral director working on a man who'd been in a car accident. His face was... it was gone, basically. Unrecognizable. But this mortician, he pulled out his tools, and it was like watching an artist. By the time he finished, this man had his dignity back. His wife could see him one last time, not what had happened to him."

Misha's eyes took on a faraway look. "I realized I could do that. I could take the techniques I learned from a monster and use them to give people peace instead of pain. It felt like... taking something back."

"Reclaiming your story," Leo said quietly.

"Yes." Misha met his gaze, a moment of perfect understanding passing between them. "I won't let Roche define what I can do with my hands. I'd rather use them to heal, even if it's just healing grief."

Something shifted in my chest, watching him. This quiet kid who'd been through hell had found a way to transform his trauma into something powerful, something redemptive. He'd found purpose in the last place anyone would have expected. It was the kind of strength that didn't announce itself with violence or domination—the kind I was only beginning to recognize thanks to Leo.

"That's fucking badass," I said, the crude words a poor vessel for the respect I felt, but Misha seemed to understand. His lips quirked in a small, genuine smile.

"I think so too, sometimes," he admitted. "Though I'd appreciate it if you didn't tell everyone how sentimental I just got about dead bodies."

Leo laughed softly. "Your secret's safe with us." He hesitated, then added, "Though for what it's worth, I think they'd be proud of you. Your whole family. If they knew."

Misha shrugged, but I could see the impact of Leo's words in the slight relaxing of his shoulders. "Maybe. Someday I might be ready to tell them." His gaze shifted to me. "You get it though, right? Having secrets, even from family. Especially from family."

"More than most," I acknowledged, thinking of my own carefully compartmentalized life, the parts of myself I showed only to Leo. "But sometimes they surprise you. When you finally let them see who you really are."

"Speaking from experience?" Misha asked, his perceptiveness catching me off guard.

I glanced at Leo, at our hands still intertwined between us. "Recent experience."

"And?" Misha pressed.

I thought about how my family had welcomed Leo without hesitation, had seen what he meant to me before I could even put it into words myself. "And sometimes family sees you more clearly than you see yourself."

"Dinner!" Mom's voice rang out across the yard, breaking the moment. "Everyone to the tables!"

The backyard erupted into controlled chaos as people claimed seats and passed dishes. I kept a steady hand on Leo's lower back as we navigated to our spots, making sure he had a clear path through the crowd. I grabbed two plates, loading his with extra of the dishes I'd seen him enjoy before, making sure the portions of his favorites were generous. Misha followed, taking the place on Leo's other side, a small buffer against the full Laskin interrogation squad.

The noise level rose as everyone settled in, conversations overlapping. War was discussing a difficult patient with Shepherd, whose clinical interest seemed genuinely engaged. River and Theo were murmuring between themselves, occasionally glancing around the table. Charlie had somehow wedged herself between Xander and Ash, peppering them with questions about Xander's butterfly clips as she stared at them with wide-eyed adoration.

Leo's knee bounced nervously until I squeezed it, a silent reminder that I was there. He immediately settled, shooting me a grateful look before returning to his food. I nudged the basket of dinner rolls closer to his side of the table, having noticed he'd already devoured his first one.

"So, Leo," War called from across the table. "Xavier mentioned you're planning to use the garage for a cosplay workshop? Ambitious project."

Leo froze mid-bite, eyes widening slightly. "Um, yeah. Just something to keep me busy while we figure out..."

"While we rebuild his life," I finished for him, my hand settling on his thigh under the table. "Since someone burned down his home with all his projects inside."

The table went uncomfortably quiet for a moment before Mom stepped in with her usual grace. "I think it's wonderful. I've been hoping someone would use that space creatively again. It's been empty since Xander moved his fashion experiments to his own place."

"It wasn't fashion, it was wearable art," Xander corrected with a dramatic sigh.

"It was a fire hazard," Nikita muttered into his beer.

Dad stood at the head of the table, raising his glass. "A toast," he announced. "To new beginnings and old family."

"And to Leo," Mom added, raising her own glass with a warm smile. "Welcome to the madhouse, honey."

All eyes turned to us, and I felt Leo tense beside me. But he raised his glass. "Thanks for having me.”

"Just don't let Xavier corrupt you completely," Xion said. "We need at least one sane person in this family."

"Too late," I said, letting my hand slide higher on Leo's thigh, enjoying the way his breath caught. "He's already thoroughly corrupted."

The table erupted in laughter and groans. Lettie made a gagging noise while Xander slow clapped. But through it all, Leo just leaned slightly against my shoulder, his body relaxing into mine.

"I think I like being corrupted," he murmured, low enough that only I could hear. The heat in his eyes made my pulse quicken, a reminder of everything we'd explored together in my bed. How perfectly he'd surrendered to me, how beautifully he'd come apart under my hands.

I pressed my lips to his ear. "Good," I whispered. "Because I'm nowhere near done with you yet."