Adam wasn’t on the bed. There was a noise from the bathroom and Etienne hurried that way. He knocked on the closed door.
“Adam?”
“I’m fine,” Adam said, but his voice was faint.
“I’m coming in.” Etienne pushed open the door, making Adam yelp weakly in protest even as he sat down hard on the closed toilet lid.
“I’m naked,” he protested, both hands going to his groin. Behind him, water was running in the shower, filling the room with steam.
“I promised you a bath today,” Etienne said, remorse prickling his skin. “I’m sorry. Let’s get you clean.”
Adam scowled ferociously but didn’t argue as Etienne left, coming back with a stool from the bar.
“Water’s not good for the wood,” Adam pointed out.
Etienne gave him a look. “Would you rather collapse halfway through when your legs give out? I didn’t think so. You’re a fucking Wolverine, you can buy a new barstool.”
“You’re gonna have to get over this Wolverine thing,” Adam muttered, but his lips were twitching. “Besides, I’m on IR for a month.”
“Injured reserve doesn’t make you less a Wolverine,” Etienne said, softening his tone. He’d been put on IR before—they all had—and he’d hated every single minute of the enforced inactivity. Setting the stool in the shower, he pulled off his shirt.
Adam gasped. “What are you—”
“I’m getting you clean,” Etienne said. He put his hands under Adam’s elbows and hauled him upright, so they were face to face. “And before you get all maiden aunt on me again, let me remind you that I’ve seen it before.” Adam perked up, opening his mouth, but Etienne beat him there. “I’m also not here for your spongebath fantasies, so save it.”
He hated how attractive Adam’s pout was, the way his full lower lip stuck out and his brow furrowed. Etienne looked away, clearing his throat, and stayed close as Adam made his shaky way into the shower and lowered himself onto the stool under the spray.
He tilted his head back, eyes fluttering shut. “God, that feels good.”
“Think you can clean yourself?” Etienne offered the sponge.
Adam looked at it, then at him, and a calculating look crossed his face.
Etienne tossed the sponge at him, hitting him in the chest with unerring aim. “If you’re well enough to flirt, you’re well enough to wash yourself.”
He stood by the open shower door, trying not to listen to the noises Adam made, the small grunts and sighs of appreciation as the hot water beat down on his knotted muscles.
Lost in a fantasy about him being the one to pull those noises from Adam’s throat, he didn’t realize something was wrong until he heard his name.
“Tens—” Adam sounded slightly panicked.
Etienne ducked into the shower. “What is it?”
Adam’s face was white again, skin pale and waxy, and he clutched at Etienne’s arm with trembling fingers. “‘M gonna—”
Shit. Adam was swaying dangerously on the stool, still half-soaped up and with suds in his hair.
“Okay, put your arms around my neck,” Etienne said. “Can you do that?” He helped Adam raise his arms and loop them loosely across Etienne’s shoulders. “Just hold on,” he murmured, and set to work rinsing the soap away.
Adam’s damp cheek was pressed against Etienne’s, his breathing harsh and rapid in Etienne’s ear. Etienne used his cupped hands to wash away the soap with clean water, letting it swirl down the drain as Adam clung to him. Then he maneuvered them so that Adam’s back was to the spray.
“Tilt your head back,” he said, cupping Adam’s skull in one hand as Adam obeyed. It didn’t take long to get the shampoo out, leaving Etienne with the problem of how to get Adam back to the bed.
He eased away just enough to grab the huge towel next to the door and gave Adam the fastest drying-off in history. Adam was only semi-conscious by that point, head on his chest and eyes shut. There was no way he was walking back to the bed under his own power. Etienne swore under his breath and pulled Adam up off the stool over his shoulder into a fireman’s hold, straightening his knees.
Adam jerked back to awareness and Etienne nearly dropped him as he flailed, trapping Adam’s legs against his chest.
“Stop,” he said through his teeth, maneuvering them out of the bathroom. “Just hold still, for God’s sake.”
Mercifully, the bed wasn’t far. Etienne got Adam on it before his back gave out, collapsing next to him, shirtless and in his wet jeans, to wheeze for a minute.
Adam curled on his side, fingers finding Etienne’s, a damp press of skin on skin.
“Okay,” Etienne said as the burn in his lungs faded. “Okay.” He turned his head to better see Adam’s face. “We’re going to talk soon, you and I.”
Adam hummed and fell asleep.
8
Adam woke up clean, dressed in his own clothes, and plastered against a large, warm, solid surface—Etienne, he deduced after a minute. His head still felt like rusty nails were being driven through it, but his eyes were focusing and he was reasonably sure he wasn’t going to throw up.
Progress, then.
Etienne had used the time while Adam was asleep to not only dress Adam, but also himself, wearing an old Seabirds jersey and a pair of soft pants. His eyes were closed, his hand warm between Adam’s shoulder blades.
Adam studied him for a minute, his too-big nose above that sensitive, oddly-shaped mouth that didn’t smile enough, closed eyes Adam knew were slate-blue and breathtakingly intense.
Even with the concussion and headache from hell, Adam wanted him, with a desperation that bordered on insane. He wanted to make Etienne laugh more, break through that reserved shell to the man Adam knew was underneath. Why had he refused to hang out with Adam in person for so long? Why had he run from Adam at the rink, and yet over text and on the phone, he was warm and funny and kind? Adam didn’t get it. He wanted to. He wanted to understand.
“You’re being creepy,” Etienne said without opening his eyes.
Adam huffed a laugh and ducked his head, rubbing his cheek against Etienne’s chest.
“How are you feeling?” Etienne asked. He gently disentangled himself and sat up, searching Adam’s face.
“Better, I think. Sorry about the… shower thing.”
“Which part? Doing it without me, flirting with me during, or passing out and making me carry you back to bed?”
Adam gaped at him. “You carried me back to bed?”
“Fireman’s hold and everything,” Etienne said dryly, lips twitching.
“Then… all of that. Except the flirting. I’m not really sorry about that.” Adam sat up too fast, wincing but holding out a hand to stop Etienne when he moved to help him. “I know we need to talk. But… can it wait?”
Etienne narrowed his eyes.
“Just until tomorrow,” Adam said. “My head feels like it’s going to split down the middle, man. Have mercy.”
Etienne sighed. “Okay. I’m going to make lunch. Do you think you can eat?”
“I can try,” Adam said.