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Circumstance had kept Shiloh in the infirmary for the entire duration of his weekly limit, the attendants certainly not trusting him or Ian to be responsible enough for his wounds. But, though Shiloh was inclined to agree, and they did allow him wheelchair privileges, by the end of the week, he was more than ready to get out of the infirmary, and made a mental note not to give himself any reason to visit there again any time soon. He’d managed to snag some of his regular clothes back, and the itchy bandages and stitches were a thing of the recent past. His upper body was still not pretty to look at, but it was healed, the damage left mostly cosmetic. Shiloh hoped Deus healing could work is wonders on scars as well as it did open wounds, but only time would tell.

Walking was a little strange after nearly three weeks of not doing so, at least not really. The weightlessness of his afterlife experience was far different than the way gravity pushed him around again, and so, a bit wobbly, he leaned against Ian as they made their way to the dorms.

Still, his wobbliness couldn’t outweigh his excitement, and his tight grip on Ian’s arm was more likely from eagerness to get back to a normal room, with a normal bed, with one extraordinary boyfriend. The fact that he was openly leaning on Ian didn't even seem to bother him, though his plausible excuse for the might have helped. Nonetheless, he was happy, and practically buzzed as he walked beside Ian.

“Your room or mine?” he asked with a grin.

“Sounds good,” Shiloh agreed, the thought of his sleeping in his own bed was overwhelmingly appealing, and the thought of having Ian to share it with even more so. It was admittedly a strange feeling, Ian’s arm wrapped around his waist as they found their way to Ian’s room, and Shiloh making no attempt to dissuade it, to check around corners or worry that someone might be looking. It was liberating, to say the least, even if it was only something so simple, and he felt bold as he held onto Ian, happily so. Not that they had encountered anyone of particular importance, but they had encountered people, the infirmary attendants, other hunters making their way through the hallways and Shiloh had yet to hesitate. Small victories.

It was a victory worth celebrating, however, and he smiled up at Ian as they stopped in front of his door, thinking just how thankful he was that he’d gotten a second chance at life, at this.

"Thanks-"

Shiloh had planned to tell Ian just how thankful he was but Ian's door swung open before he got the chance, Shiloh flinching in surprise.

The man the voice belonged to was not someone Shiloh had met before, but it appeared that Ian knew him and even if this 'Alistaire' was in Ian's room uninvited, Shiloh elbowed Ian a little for his lackluster greeting, before turning his gaze towards the stranger.

"It's not very polite to trespass, dude."

“It’s still not your room,” Shiloh countered, pulled into the room with Ian. “And no, it wasn’t very polite but it doesn’t excuse you either.”

It was a very long, and very awkward pause while Ian stared with his eyes glued to the floor, and Alistaire with his eyes glued to him. Shiloh had no intention of staring anywhere but Alistaire, watching him with a careful wariness. The past few weeks had taught him something about choosing his battles more wisely, but that didn’t mean he’d set down his sense of morals so easily. The bottom line was, however, that he had no idea what to make of Alistaire, or why Ian was acting so strangely, and he was glad when one of them broke the silence.

Then came the introductions, and the pieces started to fall into place, Shiloh not unaware of love lost between brothers. His own had been a royal pain in the a**, and he could only imagine how he’d feel finding him on Deus at all, let alone his room. But he forced a smile too, and extended his hand.

“Hi, Alistaire.”

It was about as awkward as this entire situation, but tacking on any sort of ‘pleasure to meet you’ seemed wrong; Shiloh wasn’t a fan of lying, even if he was trying to be pleasant.

“What brings you to Ian’s room?”

“Not that it’s really any of your business,” Shiloh answered, “But you assume correctly.”

The uncharacteristic sarcasm dripping from his voice was a product of his patience for playing nice wearing thing as of late. There were only so many people he could bow down before, and while he wasn’t looking for a battle, he wasn’t about to bow for a complete stranger. He was tense against Ian’s arm; his own hand having pulled back when it was clear Alistaire had no intention of shaking it.

It wasn’t the sort of declaration of their relationship that he’d imagined, and while he may have seemed bold on the outside, inwardly he was shaking. He didn’t want to start another fight but he couldn’t seem to stop himself from slipping into the same course of action, nearly visibly puffing up in front of Alistaire, as though he needed to draw himself up to assert his position, that he wasn't going to let Alistaire tread over him the same way that Ian did. And he wasn’t going to let him do it to Ian either.

“Anything else? If not, you can assume that Ian is faring fine, and I can assume that, if you don’t lose the attitude, you can find the door and let yourself out.”

Alistaire probably thought he was being smart, the Shiloh would crumble underneath the accusations of Ian’s supposed infidelity, that’d he’d stand there mutely like his brother. His arrow hit its intended mark, however, and Shiloh, who had sworn that he’d learned something from the past few weeks, that he wouldn’t repeat the same mistakes, found himself riled up all over again. Alistaire had vacated the room before he could shake himself out of stunned silence, out of Ian’s arm, tight against his waist. But the minute Ian’s hold relented, Shiloh was brushing past his apology and out the door, stalking down the hallway after Alistaire’s retreating back.

He painfully average in height but as he caught up with Alistaire and stood in front of him, he positively bristled, his short stature far more intimidating than it should have been.

“Listen here, Alistaire,” he glared. “You're Ian’s brother so I thought I’d give you the benefit of the doubt but if you think for a minute that you’re going to walk all over him, or by any extent me, you can crawl off that high horse right now.”

[ Cool it, Shiloh. ] Haruko’s voice was gentler than it would seem, a reminder rather than a demand. They were a partnership, and she was looking out for him, for his best interests and he relented, though he didn’t give an inch to Alistaire.

“You need an attitude adjustment, but you’re not worth the wasted breath, so I’ll only tell you this once. If I wanted your advice, I’d have ******** asked for it. Stay away from Ian, and stay away from me.”

Then he was sliding past him without a further thought, reflexively clenching and unclenching his fists. It was a miracle he hadn’t punched the guy in the face, but Haruko mentally soothed his anger, breaking it down piece by piece so by the time he reached Ian’s door the fire was gone, leaving in it’s wake a painful sort of tiredness.

“Don’t apologize,” he said pre-emptively as he stepped into the room, making sure to shut the door tightly behind him. “Not unless you have something to apologize for. Otherwise, nothing he said matters, and I’m sorry, I know he’s your brother, but he can go ******** himself.”

With that, he flopped onto Ian’s bed, deflated. The comforter was smoothed out a little still from where Alistaire had sat and Shiloh glared at it, ruffling it up with his hand. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like being angry. He wanted his smile back but with everything going on, and today’s altercation on top of it all, he was finding it very difficult to do so. His head hurt, his chest hurt and he rolled over onto his back, rubbing his face with his hands.

“If you want to grab your stuff, we can still go to my room but… I’d just as soon as stay here for a bit, you know?”

His anger had been diffused but something flickered as Ian drew him up from the bed, as Ian kissed him with the same amount of fervor that Shiloh had shouted at his brother. It surprised him, it caught him off-guard but he wound his arms tightly around Ian all the same, leaning his eight against him as their lips met, first with intensity, and then again, gentle and slow and fleeting.

“Stop apologizing,” he scolded Ian softly, hugging him closer. “I don’t know what you’re apologizing for but I told you, it doesn’t matter what he said. If that stuff is all… In the past, then it doesn’t matter. It’s not who you are, it’s just something you did.”

He couldn’t help it, the smile found its way back and he smiled as he leaned his forehead against Ian’s.

“Literally, I guess. But the past is the past, so you might as well leave it there, right?”

Shiloh had never been in a relationship before, and as such his views were a little stilted, he held onto a sort of fairytale idea of romance, because it was what he had seen around him, diligent partners, always faithful, or at the very least honest. Inexperienced and naïve though he was, he was liable to let Ian get away with more than he should, and he ought to have said something, ought to have warned Ian as he reached up and smoothed back Ian’s hair that doing anything of the sort when he was with him would be game over. But warning Ian didn’t cross his mind, because Shiloh trusted him. Shiloh liked him. And, he assumed, Ian liked him.

There was no room for thought of there being someone else. It wasn’t even a possibility.

Maybe it was because it had been almost a month since they’d been able to do anything other than awkwardly share his hospital bed, maybe it was because he’d only just managed to acquire that notch in his belt before everything, before his chances of repeat performances had slipped away with his lifeline. Or maybe it was the way Ian’s lips claimed his in a torrid outburst of the words he couldn’t seem to voice, the way his hands roamed beneath Shiloh’s shirt, his fingers teasing, warm and exciting against his skin.

Maybe it was a lot of things, all rolled into one, but most likely it was the words that Ian did finally say, that made Shiloh give in. Sex wasn’t a viable solution to this sort of problem, a problem that truly did require words and honesty and things that the both of them were unlikely to be ready to talk about. Not this early in the game, and definitely not in a relationship where they both held back more than they cared to admit.

The sex thing seemed infinitely easier, though, and far more satisfying, so Shiloh, his voice laden with intent, breathed against Ian’s cheek, “Want you too. We can talk about this after.”

Ian had given him every opportunity to leave but Shiloh had never had any intention, he cared about Ian and he no intentions of giving up so easily, stubborn as he was. Alistaire’s words were nothing but petty insults from a petty man and Shiloh was too tired of dealing with that same bullshit over and over to let it ruin his homecoming.

It was best to ignore it, the best way they knew how.

---

“Really?” Shiloh asked, as he lifted his head, glancing at Ian, his mouth twisting into a slow grin. “You’re a better man than me, ‘cause I totally was.”

His breath came in short little huffs, mingling with his laughter as he tried to catch it, finally settling against Ian and the bed sheets with a soft sigh that mimicked his boyfriend’s. Ian’s fingers ran gently against his skin, into his hair and Shiloh snugged the blankets closer around them, one arm slipping over Ian’s hip, the other tucked between them.

“You don’t have to apologize for him, you’re not his keeper or anything. You’re only responsible for yourself,” Shiloh smiled, reaching up to give the end of Ian’s nose a gentle tap.