Lookit! Something that may or may not be a plot! It'll be epic, I promise.

As per usual, Rayce and Orion are mine. Maxwell, too, I guess. Blake belongs to Seirei Ishtar.

There had to be a reason that the fear of dogs rested deep within Rayce’s conscience, and chances were that it had little to do with being attacked at such a young age by something three times his size

There had to be a reason that the fear of dogs rested deep within Rayce’s conscience, and chances were that it had little to do with being attacked at such a young age by something three times his size. For some other reason, his instincts told him to stay away from them. Dogs were bad news, forever and always.

Then Maxwell came into the equation. The damned Malamute effectively screwed the well-balanced and oiled system, and no one was quite sure why. He was a large dog, with a number of sharp teeth and a penchant for biting when anyone dared wrestle him. That seemed like the sort of thing that would make Rayce back off.

He tried. For months after Alex brought the animal home with her, the nymph made every attempt possible to stay away lest a repeat performance of that traumatizing childhood event take place. Maxwell didn’t share the sentiment, though. He liked the man, and when his owner wasn’t around to coddle him like a puppy, he would turn to Rayce for attention. When Alex locked him out of her bedroom for whatever reason, he would sit outside of Rayce’s room and whine until he was let in.

That is, until he learned how to open doors with his teeth.

After a while, the nymph stopped fighting it. Maxwell wasn’t bad, as far as dogs went, and he liked to run. It wasn’t one of Alex’s hobbies, though she did walk him when she had free time and he could be found. One night, while feeling particularly charitable, Rayce decided that he would take the animal out for a jog.

Sometimes, they raced. More often than not, the man won. He didn’t think Maxwell was aware of that, though.

This was a night just like that. For being a little after four in the morning, only the faintest chill tainted the air. The sky was clear, and the moon was as close to full as it could be without causing werewolves to turn.

Rayce’s feet pounded against the sidewalk with a practiced evenness. His eyes were locked straight ahead, as he didn’t trust himself to keep from running into walls or the odd person who might be out at this time of night. There were a few bars in this area, and as far as he knew, they closed around five, so it didn’t seem horribly unlikely.

He was starting to hate how little he had to do on a routine basis, and it had only been three days since he quit. Looking for another job seemed like a good idea, but the nymph didn’t know if he wanted to go back into showbiz. Or, if he did, it would have to be magnificent. Like signing an actual record deal.

What were the chances of that? Rayce had a few cards from talent scouts that dropped by the club. He could call and talk to them at some point in the near future. It would be a good distraction.

Out of the blue, Maxwell changed direction. A yelp graced the unexpected turn, and the nymph hit the ground. He managed to scrape his palm and shin, and his reflexes proved to be the only thing that prevented the dog’s leash from slipping away. Chasing a rogue malamute was less fun than a nighttime jog.

“I hope you enjoyed that,” Rayce muttered as he stumbled back to his feet. Maxwell strained against the force that kept him from moving onward, and to be honest, he almost weighed as much as the nymph. Dragging him along wouldn’t take too much effort. “Tell me, why hasn’t anyone put you to good use as a pack mule yet?”

He almost hit the ground once more when the dog tried to leap forward for a second time, but Rayce managed to stay upright. With a few additional grumbles, he got back into the pace they had earlier. At least it kept Maxwell from being too persistent.

A scream threatened to destroy his eardrums when they were just a few yards ahead of an alley. The sound that followed—a heavy thud and the cracking of bones—all but made him stop on a dime. Again, the damned dog was to blame for that. He whined loudly and pulled forward, which earned a wince from Rayce. Things like that were best left alone, and yet…

Maxwell finally won the struggle (something he wouldn’t ever tell Alex) and jerked him those few feet forward. The nymph managed to jump and grab him by the collar before he went any further than the mouth of the alley, and he glanced up.

Someone—a woman, upon closer inspection, with long brown hair and blood-splattered clothing—stared at him with surprise. A still figure was at her feet, with a puddle of dark liquid spreading. Rayce didn’t have to contemplate what it was, but he knew for a fact that they wouldn’t be getting up again.

It wasn’t Alex. That was the only thing he found to be important. It meant more danger than he wanted to deal with.

So he ran. It was the first thing that came to mind, and unless the mystery woman had the ability to catch up to someone burning adrenalin like it was going out of style, it would get him out of there. Convincing Maxwell to follow suit had taken a bit of convincing, but before long, sheer brute force won out.

The few steps it took to get up to the front door were rarely as relieving as they were to Rayce that night. He leapt up in one bound and leaned over to unclip Maxwell’s leash before walking inside. The door had been unlocked, but someone was always awake in the house so he didn’t bother with being worried. Chances were that it was Orion being his typical insomniac self.

His suspicions were confirmed when he peered into the kitchen and caught sight of the man sipping tiredly from a steaming mug. Ciaran was probably hanging around somewhere as well.

“’Morning,” Rayce chirped as he headed towards the ‘fridge. An apple or something would be nice before he retired to his room for the next few hours. “Sleep well?”

“I should strangle you for that,” Orion grumbled. Good thing he was too tired to move anywhere, or the nymph would almost have been concerned. “The hell were you doing?”

His first choice of fruit was discovered to be non-existent, and he decided that he didn’t feel like eating the only pear left. It was almost his turn to go grocery shopping, wasn’t it? Joy. The thought was brushed away as he turned to lean against the table.

“Running. Figured Maxwell could use the exercise. Do you ever sleep? There was a fairy tale kinda like that, where a princess had to watch a prince for…like…three months and—“

The nonsensical rambling was usually a positive sign that indicated Rayce felt at least a little more in control, and Orion was quite aware of that. So, instead of shooting the younger man the glare that he so desperately deserved, he plastered a tiny smile on and gestured towards the door to the living room.

“Rayce, much as I love listening to you talk about nothing, you need to get your ass in gear and go tell Blake to stop worrying.”

That didn’t seem to do the trick, because the nymph merely arched an eyebrow.

“See, by staying here and harassing you, I can pretend that there are no problems and delay the inevitable for another minute.”

“Or I could knock you out and dump you in Blake’s room. Which one do you think will end on a better note?”

Rayce turned around and left without another word, largely because Orion was always grumpy when tired and he didn’t doubt it happening. Besides. The less he focused on what had been witnessed just a little while ago, the better he would feel.

His own bedroom was empty, as expected, so the short quest that lead to the dragon’s room proved to be successful. Blake looked to be quite thoroughly asleep, though. He crept forward and made a point to step around the numerous weapons lying on the floor. Spearing his foot wouldn’t make for a good end to the night.

For a little while, Rayce stood at the side of the bed and just sort of watched. He could see the large tattoo that graced the dragon’s back, and the corner of his lip quirked upwards. It was far more impressive than anything he’d ever sport himself.

Just as he turned to go, Blake stirred. His hair was almost hilariously mussed as he squinted as Rayce. “Nngh?”

“Hi,” the nymph replied, waving the tiniest bit before shoving his hands in his pockets. They stared at each other for a few additional seconds before the younger man finally sighed and averted his gaze. “Hey. I just wanted to apologize.”

Blake mumbled something incoherent under his breath and rolled onto his back. He pressed the palms of his hands into his eyes before slumping back completely. “What time is it?”

After catching a glimpse of the glowing red numbers on his alarm clock, Rayce tried not to sound too amused as he answered. Normal sleep schedules were for squares. “About 4:45. The sun’ll be coming up soon.”

Well, not necessarily. But it would be getting light, and some of the best colors could be seen around that time. He loved clear skies in spring.

With a quiet sigh, Blake propped himself up on an elbow. He felt the faintest twinge of a headache behind his eyes and his stomach was already prepared to start flip-flopping. Ah, hangovers in their baby stages were probably worse than the real thing. It figured that Rayce would show up again at a time like this.

“I should probably apologize, too,” he said shortly, only to frown when the nymph glowered at him. “Hm?”

It wasn’t horribly surprising when the younger man sat cross-legged at his feet, though the jarring movement only bothered the headache that much more.

“You already know ‘bout me having a panic attack,” Rayce said. He toyed absently with the covers as Blake sat up completely. “And the reason for it…well, it’s the same thing that causes every other problem I have nowadays.”

“Are you all right…?”

He nodded after a brief hesitation. “Yeah. I am.”

Another short silence followed, and the dragon gestured for him to come closer. Rayce didn’t protest, and he was soon curled up at the older man’s side.

“Why didn’t you bring it up then?”

A question like that was bound to come up in a conversation like this, but that didn’t make it any easier to answer. His real reasoning was foolish and a little selfish, to be honest, and while BSing something would take about half a second of effort, he just didn’t feel like it.

“You have to put up with enough of my crap,” Rayce replied with a shrug. He looked away again. “I didn’t want to worry you.”

A heavy sigh followed the answer, and another bout of guilt tugged at his innards. That seemed to be happening a lot lately.

“Did it ever occur to you that this is the sort of thing I’d like to hear about? Maybe I want to help.” Blake reached over and tilted his chin up. “And I worry more when I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

He all but pouted as he slouched back against the headboard. “You’re really good at making me feel bad.”

“Maybe someday you’ll stop giving me reason to.”

Rayce laughed and leaned in for a soft kiss. “I doubt it. But…next time this happens, I’ll tell you. ‘Least I don’t have to worry ‘bout it happening at work anymore, right?”

“Right,” Blake replied. He bit back a yawn and slid down under the covers. “Sleep. You could probably use it.”

It was nothing but the truth, and the nymph was pretty sure that he could forego the shower he had wanted (all he seemed to do was shower and run nowadays. Odd.) for at least a little while. He shrugged his shirt off and tossed it over the side of the bed, and after a brief deliberation, his jeans followed suit. He loved his Guns & Roses boxer briefs.

A pleasant exhaustion settled as he curled up with his back to the dragon. Mm, Blake was warm. Being on his good side was much, much better than anything else, and Rayce drifted off quickly enough. The incident from earlier slipped from mind without further effort.