Fighting Wyrd

If Lock had been any other man, he might have laughed at the beat up, homey-looking VW bug, however, Lock was, well, Lock and Derik found no need to defend or joke about his ‘ride.’ It left him feeling out-of-sorts. Most people made a comment, ANY comment, but Lock just stared expectantly. Dark eyes turned to him.

“You usually need to unlock a car to get into it.”

Derik started and then laughed a little, “Uh, yeah, hah hah,” he mumbled before digging around in his pockets. They had already explained the situation to Stella and Mike (who were both overjoyed at Derik’s proposal) and were ready to get on their way to Derik’s place, if Derik could just find the friggin’ keys—oh, there they were, in his back pocket. He tried to remember why he put them in his back pocket as he unlocked the doors. After starting the car he finally gave up his mental battle in favor of watching the quiet author buckle in.

“Something wrong?” Lock raised an eyebrow to go along with his question as he glanced toward the other man, who hadn’t started driving yet.

Derik blushed a little at being caught staring and he hoped the darkness would hide most of it, “N-no, just making sure you’re all in.” He silently cursed himself for stammering like a guilty schoolboy before pulling out into the night.

The car ride was quiet and it unnerved Derik. While he was sure the author didn’t mind, he really couldn’t take silence too well, and he had to resist the urge to fidget or babble while driving. When his home finally came into view he let out a little sigh of relief. He pulled into his driveway and shut off the engine waiting before he got out, to give the man next to him a moment to take in his dainty brick house, with white shutters on the windows and a very handsome wooden door. Finally, Derik opened his door and Lock followed suit.

“We can go by the store tomorrow to get whatever you need, for, uh, however long you’ll be staying.” Derik said as he began walking to his door, “Until then, don’t hesitate to use any of my stuff.” Lock nodded his thanks.

Derik flicked on the lights and led a mini-tour around the house, throughout which Lock stayed almost completely silent. The house had four bedrooms, the master bedroom (that had its own bathroom), one guest room and the other two looked like office/library rooms. There was a hall bathroom, a spacious kitchen that gave way to the living room and the basement had been converted to a gaming/work-out room. By the end of the tour Derik was a bit put-out that Lock had barely said more than two words. ‘I mean, sure, Stella did say he was a hermit, but this is ridiculous!’ he thought as he turned toward the young man, ready to shake him if necessary to get a response.

It was a good thing he turned around when he did because even before he completed his turn Lock was crumpling. Derik caught him before he hit the ground. He gently lowered them both to the floor.

“Lock?! Lock! Hey! You okay?!” Obviously not since he wasn’t responding. It was then that Derik realized that perhaps Lock’s lack in conversation was from exhaustion, not indifference. He mentally berated himself. OF COURSE the poor guy was going to be exhausted after a night like tonight! He should have just shoved the quiet man into the guest room and handled everything else tomorrow.

Derik picked the young man up in his arms. He was surprised by how light Lock was. Pushing the door to the guest room open with his foot, he walked in and set Lock down on the bed. Lock groaned a little and his brows furrowed, showing discomfort or perhaps…pain? Derik remembered how Lock acted at the party, and for the second time tonight he wasn’t sure what to do. Maybe Lock had a headache? Well, he could deal with that a little later, first he had to get Lock out of those tight clothes. They can’t be comfortable enough to sleep in.

Derik ran back to his room, grabbed the first PJs he saw and re-entered the guest room. He stopped, looking down at Lock’s prone and vulnerable form. Now that the task was right in front of him, he wasn’t sure he could do it. Lock shifted unconsciously and winced. Derik sighed and moved closer, tossing the PJs in his hand on the edge of the bed. Carefully, he reached out and started unbuttoning the silky shirt. He ignored the way his breath continually shortened as more and more of the creamy pale flesh was exposed. He quickly removed the shirt, trying not to touch skin to skin, but as he went to replace the shirt with the PJ top a memory of Lock blushing assaulted his mind. He felt his own face heat up as his eyes trailed from the hauntingly beautiful face (even if it was halfway contorted in pain) down the now exposed chest to the surprisingly well toned abs. He gulped as his eyes slid even lower to the half-shown V Lock’s hips made thanks to the dangerously low and tight fitting jeans. Heat coiled low in Derik’s belly. It took all of his self control to tear his eyes away from that spot as his hastily pulled the PJ shirt over the unresponsive Lock.

‘Curse my sexual preference three ways to hell!’ He thought, ‘Now is not the time to get aroused, think of what Stella would do if she found out I hit on/took advantage of her prized author!’ He shivered at the thought and managed to actually take off and put on Lock’s pants without too much interference from his dirty mind. With a newly clothed Lock, his heartbeat returned to a fairly normal pace. He shifted the young man so that he was under the covers. Lock groaned again. Now it looked like he was having a nightmare.

‘Great, now what do I do?’ Derik put his hand on Lock’s forehead and was surprised that he was burning up!

“Ice, need to get ice! Or a doctor! Yeah, a doctor!” Derik whispered and turned to move away. A hand snapped from beneath the covers and caught his wrist. He jumped slightly, and turned back. Dark eyes looked blearily at him.

“ ’m fine.” Lock managed to get out despite his throbbing head.

“Like hell you are!” Derik said, a frown gracing his features, ‘he looks like he’s in a lot of pain.’

“I’m not.” Lock said defiantly and tried to glare, it came out as a grimace, unfortunately, but it was a valiant effort.

Derik started, ‘I didn’t think I said that out loud!’

Lock frowned, “Said what out loud?” He sat up slowly.

‘AAAAAAAAAH!’ Derik shrieked in his mind and Lock winced, ‘Crap, if he can read my mind then he might be able to see all the---pink daisies and watermelon!’ Derik cut off his thoughts before he could think of anything that would incriminate himself.

“What the hell?” Lock looked confused, he unconsciously tightened his hold on Derik’s wrist. Which in turn caused Derik to look down, realize they were still connected and blush.

‘Not thinking, not thinking, not thinking—‘ he continued to chant in his head while he said out loud, “Um, could you let me go?”

It was Lock’s turn to start, he quickly released Derik’s hand and blushed as well, “Sorry,” he mumbled, while rubbing his head.

“S’okay. Sooo, you wanna tell me why you can read my mind?”

Lock looked at Derik, his frown deepened, “What are you talking about?”

Derik raised an eyebrow and cocked his head to the side, “Watch my lips.”

Lock looked at him like he just went crazy, but did as he said.

‘My name is Derik, and my favorite color is tye-dye. I’ve never had a pet, and I am terrified of Stella when she’s angry.’ Derik smirked at his last remark, but otherwise didn’t move his mouth. Lock’s eyes widened.

“T-tye-dye isn’t a color.” Was all Lock managed to get out.

Derik laughed, “Do you always resort to cynicism when strange things pop up?”

“I guess…nothing like this has happe—AAH!” Pain shot across Lock’s back, cutting him off. He hugged himself and squinted his eyes shut.

“Lock?!” Derik put a hand on the young man’s shoulder only to snatch it back when he cried out in pain. “What’s wrong?! I can’t help you if you don’t tell me!”

Lock only shook his head, his nails dug into the flesh of his arms, drawing blood. The feeling was back. The rippling, slithering feeling that moved across his back, searing it in its wake. As Lock bent over himself, there was a sound of bones cracking and grinding together. Derik took a step back, his eyes widening as the back of the shirt Lock was wearing started to stretch. Slowly, the shirt was pushed up and bunched around Lock’s neck. Derik’s eyes widened even further as he took in the cause.

Two pristine white wings were steadily growing out of Lock’s back. A low whimper sounded from Lock, drawing Derik’s eyes to his face, Lock wasn’t breathing. His eyes grazed over the fingers clenching too tightly and he took a step forward and then another, until he seated himself next to/in front of Lock. He lifted Lock’s face, putting a hand on either side. Lock’s hands unclenched from his own arms to latch onto Derik’s, gripping painfully. Derik ignored the pain and, acting on instinct, lined their foreheads together.

“Breathe, Lock. Look at me, focus on me and breathe, c’mon.” Derik’s voice was strong, and he was glad for it considering he himself was a little shaken up by what was happening. Lock tried opening his eyes twice, his face scrunching in pain as he did so. His grip tightened and on the third try he finally met Derik’s tempestuous eyes. “Good, now breathe.”

Lock focused on Derik and his voice, trying to force his body to react to him. His lungs were burning now, but he still couldn’t make himself take in air. The pain was overwhelming and soon even Derik’s voice was starting to fade. Lock’s eyes shut again. At least they started to before two lips closed over his own. His eyes snapped open and he gasped involuntarily, taking in much needed air. Derik didn’t stop there, though, he pushed his own breath into Lock, pulled back a little and then repeated the gesture, basically giving Lock CPR while conscious.

The crackling sound finally stopped and Lock clung to Derik as his lips were claimed again, this time he greedily sucked in air from Derik’s mouth. The pain subsided to a minimal burning when Derik pulled back and didn’t return. Lock was finally breathing on his own. As Derik took in Lock’s rumpled and dazed look, he almost dove in for a different kind of kiss, but he didn’t think stealing the breath he had just managed to put back in Lock was a good idea.

“You okay now?” Derik asked in a slightly breathy tone. His hands, still on Lock’s face, unconsciously stroked thumbs across the too warm cheeks.

Lock noticed and blushed before nodding. His blush deepened as he realized he was still holding Derik in a death grip. He hastily pulled away, became over balanced, getting tangled in the sheet that was still over his legs and almost fell off the bed, but before he could his felt his back stretch and the two white wings flapped once, settling his balance. His eyes widened in horror as he took in his new appendages.

“Yeah, uh, any idea what’s going on?” Derik asked as he shook off the senseless regret of no longer holding Lock.

Lock looked back over at him in bewilderment, “None.” He experimented flexing out one of his wings, it obediently stretched, showing an impressive amount of glistening white feathers, judging by the length of the one wing, he figured he must have an at eight foot wingspan, if not nine! He refolded it closer to his body, or as close as it could be with him sitting on a bed.

‘Cooool!’

“I’m not a side show attraction, you know.” Lock said irritably.

“Hell no! You’d be CENTER stage!” Derik fired back playfully, Lock scowled and Derik had to bite back a smirk or risk upsetting the now-winged-author even more. “And, uh, just wondering, but could you stop reading my mind?” Derik seriously needed him to stop and soon. People always told him that he had a one-track mind and if it stayed on the track it was going down…there’s bound to be a train wreck.

“Sorry, I’ll try, but I don’t know what the hell’s going on, so, yeah, I’ll try.” Lock sighed and tried picturing walls around his head. One good thing about being a writer is you have to have an excellent imagination.

‘Can you hear me now?’

“Yes, and that was a stupid pun.”

‘Sorry couldn’t resist.’ Derik thought with a smirk.

“Would you talk normally, it freaks me out that I can hear you, but your mouth’s not moving!” Lock concentrated harder and pictured the white walls turning into iron walls, with concrete surrounding them.

“I don’t know, I think it’s kinda neat, actually.” Derik faux-pouted. He stared at Lock and Lock stared back. They stayed that way for about two minutes before Derik smirked, “It’s working!”

Lock frowned, “I know it’s working, but how do YOU know?”

“Because you definitely would have punched me by now.” Derik’s smirk widened and his eyes took on a strange twinkle that made Lock’s stomach flutter. Lock’s frown deepened.

“Whatever.” He said before turning his attention back to his wings. It didn’t escape Derik’s notice that as Lock turned away his cheeks were stained with some color. Which reminded him.

“Do you still have a fe-“ He was interrupted by a loud banging noise coming from what sounded like the front door. “What the-?” He turned to get up, but found his wrist captured for the second time this night.

“Don’t get it.” Lock’s eyes were wide and Derik noticed, with some amusement, that his feathers were ruffled.

“Why not?”

“I don’t, it’s just,” Lock fumbled but still found no words to describe what he was feeling, all he knew was that whatever made that noise was no friend of theirs. “Don’t.”

There was a louder bang and a feeling of revulsion took over him. They needed to get out of here. But where could they go, especially with him looking like this?

Derik frowned, the banging was getting worse (he was beginning to fear for his door) and Lock was appearing more agitated by the second. “I should at least check…” he trailed off and gently pulled his hand free. Lock was apparently preoccupied and let him go, although as soon as Derik disappeared from sight Lock snapped back to attention.

“Derik! Wait, Don’t!” He scrambled from the bed, trying to balance the new weight on his back, and rushed out of the room.

Derik was already at the front door, and it seemed like Lock’s paranoia was contagious because Derik was starting to get really bad vibes. As soon as he placed his hand on the doorknob, the banging stopped. “Who’s there?” Derik called out, trying to peer through his peephole, but it was too dark to see anything. Nobody answered. He vaguely noted Lock coming out of the guest room. He turned, “See? Nothing to worry about, probably just some punk kids.”

As soon as he finished talking, the doorknob in his hand started heating. Before he could contemplate this the door blasted inwards, him along with it.

“DERIK!” Lock ran to the groaning man, pinned to the floor by his own door.

“That hurt, dammit!” Derik shook his spinning head to try and clear it, luckily nothing was broken, but he was definitely going to have some good looking bruises. Lock pushed the rest of the door off him and helped him sit up.

“A bunch of punk kids, huh?”

“Not now, Mr. Paranoia, we have company.” Derik grunted out as he squinted into the darkness that was his door. A low chuckle sounded. Derik shivered, this wasn’t the good kind of chuckle, it was a predator’s chuckle.

One that sounded like he found his prey.

*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Evil cliffy, I know, but...that just makes the suspense for the next part better, MUAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

ANYwho, I would like to take a moment to thank Faust...THANK YOU! Your words were few, but heartfelt and made me giddy for five minutes before I had to smack myself back into a working mode! I'm glad you like it =^.^=