Chapter 22 22: Kitten In My Arms
"My head... hurts," Baby groaned as he leaned and pushed Saint away from his side as he stumbled out of Rode's house.
"Baby, wait," Saint held Baby's arm, pulling him back, "You can't drive, I'll drive you back." He whispered.
Baby shook his head and pulled away from him.
"No." He said simply and walked away.
He went over to the car, fumbling to open his door.
"I'll drive him," Rode said and tried walking toward Baby but Saint grabbed his, blocking his path, his hand on Rode's shoulder.
"That won't be necessary. You can't leave your house to strangers. I live with Baby, I'll take him home, and I didn't drink," Saint patted Rode's shoulder and turned away.
Rode stood with fists clenched, watching Saint's back as he walked over and placed his hand on Baby's waist.
"Just wait, Saint. You can't step between my goal," He murmured and stormed into the house.
In the car, Baby was struggling to open his door, his head spinning, making it difficult to focus on the door.
"I'll drive," Saint suddenly appeared behind him, placing his warm hand on his lower back.
Baby groaned, turning in the small space between the car and Saint, his back pressing against the car. He looked up at Saint, his hands reaching up to poke his cheek.
"My head hurts, Saint," he said, blinking king slowly.
Saint sighed, removing Baby's hand from his face, "Consequences for drinking. Get in the car," he pulled Baby around the car and opened the front door for him, standing by the side.
Baby groaned, slumping into the car and pointing his hand at Saint, "Stop acting like you're the boss. If I weren't drunk, I'd have punched your stupid face," he mumbled, retracting his hand to hold his pounding head.
Saint ignored him and simply closed the door.
He got in beside Baby and drove the car away, ignoring Baby and his consequences.
A few minutes later, Saint had Baby's arm around his shoulder, literally dragging him into the elevator.
"Can you keep yourself up?" Saint drowned as he felt Baby slipping off his arms again.
Baby nodded and suddenly hooked his arms around Saint's neck, smiling up at Saint with his eyes half-closed.
"What are you doing?" Saint's voice came out rougher than he intended, the heat from earlier slowly creeping back into his body.
Baby didn't speak, he slowly placed his head on Saint's shoulder, sighing quietly.
"Sleepy," he murmured.
Saint stilled, his pulse dancing in his ears as he felt the warmth of Baby's body against his.
It wasn't supposed to bother him, but it did, it really did.
"God..." Saint murmured under his breath, glancing up at the roof of the elevator.
He gently placed a hand on Baby's waist and peeled him off himself, holding him up by the waist.
"Just hold on to your feet, we're almost there," Saint said, staring at the numbers on the door.
A sigh escaped his lips the moment the door slid open.
"Come on, man," Saint said and led Baby out of the elevator.
He quickly unlocked their door and pulled Baby into the apartment, kicking the door shut with his leg.
"Fuck," Saint grunted as he threw Baby on the sofa, massaging the sides of his head with his fingers.
He looked down at Baby and saw that he was quiet, lying half-sprawled on the sofa, his hand dangling and touching the cold floor.
He frowned. He couldn't leave Baby like this; his entire body would ache by morning.
"Baby," he called.
No response.
"Baby, you need to get to your room," he gently kicked Baby's hand but still no response.
He sighed and lowered himself in front of the sofa, staring at Baby's flushed cheeks.
"Are you really sleeping?" Saint questioned, leaning close to stare at Baby's face.
By heavens, the boy was beautiful.
Saint gulped.
Slowly his eyes raked Baby's face, from the sides of his face, to his chin, then he stared at Baby's eyes and those perfect brows that always seemed to glare at him anytime their eyes met.
And, finally, his eyes trailed down the bridge of Baby's nose and settled on his lips, those lips that had almost kissed him tonight.
They had been so close, so fucking close. He almost thought it was going to happen, feeling Baby's warm breath on his lips undid something in him, something he never knew he could feel, a certain kind of hunger that shunned out every rational thought in his mind. And, if Rode hadn't interrupted, he might just have kissed his co-captain tonight.
He was glad Rode interrupted them, if not, they would have probably received some news from THC.
He had let the party get into his head, he almost made the greatest mistake of his life.
"What was I thinking?" He dragged a hand down his face and tore his eyes away from Baby's lips, standing to his feet.
"Maybe you should sleep here, the pain might teach you a lesson by morning," Saint muttered and turned away from Baby's, walking into his room without glancing back.
An hour later, Baby stirred on the sofa, his neck feeling cranked and his head feeling so heavy like he was carrying a house on it.
His throat felt incredibly dry, and so did his lips.
Slowly, he opened his eyes to meet the jarring bright light that shone straight into his head, the pain shooting through his nerves and travelling down his body.
"Ugh..." he groaned and slowly slid to the floor, holding his hands on the sides of his head, "Fuck..." he murmured.
He looked up slowly, staring at the kitchen door, and suddenly wished he had a teleporting ability. He needed to get water, but he didn't have the strength to get to the kitchen, it would take a toll on him to do that.
He suddenly remembered Saint and turned to stare at his door. But he decided against it.
'The bastard would rather mock me instead of helping,'
With great pain he reached for the small, round table and pulled himself up, gritting his teeth as his head drummed, his vision blurring until the only thing he saw was hazy smoke.
"Damn it," He muttered, standing in a place to let his body get used to the new height.
He felt nothing close to better, but he could move without falling face-first.
With slow, steady steps, Baby moved, the ground looking sloppy as hell, but he kept walking, telling himself that it was just the alcohol playing tricks on him.
Finally, he made it to the kitchen, but not without stumbling and falling onto the stool by the side of the table. He quickly staggered over to the fridge and hugged it like an old friend as he caught his breath.
"I need water, fridge, give me water," he murmured, chuckling at his silly act.
"Is this what you've turned to? A madman?" Saint's clipped voice spoke from the door.