Chapter 23 23: The Saint He Isn't
Baby frowned, leaning off the fridge to look at Saint.
His vision was blurry, but he didn't miss how shirtless Saint was, his dark pyjama pants hanging dangerously low on his waist.
His eyes slowly travelled up, giving each abs a lingering look before he lifted his eyes to Saint's face, darting his tongue out to lick his dry lip.
Their gaze locked, blue against grey, the atmosphere heavy and sizzling with unspoken tension, igniting a serious fire separately in both the drunk and sober man.
"I just want water," Baby replied and turned away, patting around the fridge to search for the handle.
He heard Sain sigh before he started walking toward him, and before he could look to confirm, he felt Saint behind him.
"I'm starting to think your parents bribed the THC to get a babysitter for their Baby," Saint's deep voice rang behind Baby, stilling his movement.
Baby paused, taking his hand away from the fridge, his heart thrumming loudly, an effect he was starting to realise was caused by Saint's proximity.
Frowning, he tried to move away but stumbled, his legs becoming unsteady. He thought he was going to hit the ground but Saint was fast, wrapping his arm around him before he fell.
Saint's hand tightened around Baby's waist, his chin brushing the top of Baby's head as he steadied the drunk man.
"You shouldn't be on your feet, Baby," Saint suddenly said coldly, trying to step back.
"Don't leave me," Baby suddenly grabbed Saint's hand when he sensed he was about to release him, "I'll fall, please... I don't want to fall, it'll hurt in the morning," he pleaded, gripping Saint's arm.
Saint chuckled dryly, "Seems your brain only works when you're drunk," he muttered, pulling Baby closer to support him with his body.
"Stop being an ass and give me water, I'm fycking thirsty," Baby commanded, resting the back of his head on Saint's chest, pointing his hand to the fridge right in front of them.
"If you didn't drink like you were on a mission for kidney failure, you wouldn't be in my arms relying on me for a simple water," Saint pointed out, tightening his hand as he used his free hand to open the fridge.
He took out a bottle of water and gently closed the fridge.
"What are you doing?" Baby asked, tilting his head up to look at Saint's face when he saw him placing the water on the counter beside them instead of giving it to him.
Saint looked down, his breath catching as his eyes ran down Baby's exposed throat and inviting lips.
"Stop looking at me like that," Sant gritted out.
"How? I'm just fucking thirsty, give me water, do I need to get on my knees for you?" Baby murmured, poking Saint's chest as he licked his dry lips.
Saint instantly shut his eyes, shutting out all the improper thoughts that suddenly threatened to invade his head.
He cleared his throat and shook his head for clarity.
"Sit on the stool," He led Baby over to the surviving stool and helped him sit on it, "Try not to fall from it." He said and went to retrieve the water he had left on the counter.
"Try not to fall from it," Baby murmured, rolling his eyes.
Saint returned, handing an open bottle of water to Baby, "Drink up, I need to go back to sleep. We have practice in the morning." He said, folding his arms.
Baby didn't respond, he focused on the water in his hand. He tilted his head back and took gulps until there was nothing left in the bottle.
He sighed in satisfaction, groaned tiredly, "Take me to my room." He said, throwing the empty bottle on the table behind him.
Saint did move, he raised a brow at Baby, his face stern.
Baby groaned again, "Take me to my room, please." He repeated through gritted teeth.
Saint sighed, shaking his head as he extended his hand to Baby.
"This is the last time I'm tending you, Baby. You have to start taking responsibility for your actions and facing your consequences squarely," He said, draping Baby's hand over his shoulder.
Baby was quiet, allowing Saint to lead him out of the kitchen and toward his room.
Saint carefully opened the door to Baby's room and led the drunk man in. His brows furrowed at how messy the room was.
A few forgotten panties lay around the floor, different brands of lubes were scattered on the desk at the corner with all sorts of sex toys decorating the top.
"Hold your thoughts, Saint. I hear your judgment right inside my head," Baby chuckled as Saint gently lowered him on his unmade bed.
Saint looked at Baby's face, his eyes fighting to stay open, "You're lifestyle is not my business. All I care about is that you don't let your stupid lifestyle get in our way." He stated, frowning as he imagined just how many girls Baby had brought into his room.
"So you think you're better than me?" Baby asked, kicking his shoes off his feet.
"I never said that, but yes, I am," Saint smirked at Baby's furious face.
"Bastard. You think you're better because you don't get caught? I know yiur kinda, pretends to be righteous but a sinner in the dark," Baby pointed an accusing finger at Saint, his eyes narrowing in anger.
Saint chuckled lowly and held Baby's hand, lowering it, "You have no idea, Baby. I already told you, I'm no saint..." he lowered to squat in front of Baby, "The difference between us is that I'm smart... you're not." He grinned and stood, turning to walk away.
He was halfway to the door when he heard Baby grunting 'Bastard,' and the next thing he felt was a heavy object hitting the back of his head.
Baby's shoe fell with a this behind him, the impact leaving the back of his head aching painfully.
Very slowly, he turned, his eyes gleaming with unrestrained anger. His patient had snapped.