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It was a cleaning day.

Thorne threw open all of the windows in the apartment, his eyes ghosting over the sunny early afternoon sky. The entire apartment was damp with the smell of fresh paint and coffee. Thorne had explicitly made sure to get a place full of light with a living room large enough to convert to a work-space when he needed it, and damn right he needed it. All of the couches had been kicked out of the way, and a tarp in the back had been laid down and stained with paint, surrounded by easels of gesture drawings and figures, people from Ashdown and half-finished paintings in varying sizes. He'd been trying to find his way into the finalized concepts for Renard's commission, and that meant birds, birds, nature, birds, more birds, and a ******** of flowers.

Dispersed against the windows also were stacks of books - not the neat stacks of organization but the messy, haphazard stacks of a scholar at work.

It was a mess he was glad no one was around to see. It spoke to how he worked as a person and as an artist, and at the consequences of constant restlessness in his fingers, in his body, to press his imagined world into being.

The only reason he had the front door open was because he knew most of the tenants were out today enjoying the sun. And also because Millicent wanted to come and go today, her tail constantly flashing in his peripheral when she came around to say hello. It was his unfortunate luck (and would be in the long run of things) that the front door opened right into view of the living room and every ******** mess he made.

Thorne jacked the volume of the music he was playing from the wireless system up as he skirted out of the bathroom to the living room again, wearing nothing but black jeans rolled at the hems and a dense cluster of leather bracelets on both hands that he chewed at once and awhile while surveying his mess. The laundry machine ran in the back, only temporarily cleaning all of his somewhat paint-splattered clothing.

He'd sent a text to Rylan earlier, with an address and an unspoken offer attached. Come over whenever, if you want. After all, after being rescued from a tree, he had to offer something, at least. But he'd forgotten his phone in the chaos of the sudden need to clean, and anyways, it had been hours since he'd sent it off. He wasn't expecting company anymore. And if he was being honest with himself, he was almost nervous to check his phone for fear of no responses. For even more fear of a response.

Bending down, Thorne caught Millicent off the ground and spun her around as a new song started. His laughter filtered through the windows and the open doors when she dug her claws into his shoulders but didn't try and escape, and he sang to her as he slid and danced across the apartment, "So throw me away, 'cause if I were a boomerang, I'd turn around and come back to you!"

Yep.

Thank god no one was around.

Rylan was in his apartment.

Rylan was in his apartment and Thorne was half-naked, holding a cat, singing, and had absolutely no shirt to put on.

Thorne spun on him, his surprise apparent on his face for a split second. He should have been embarrassed, mortified, terrible and anxious. But even though the last few weeks had been a ********, he couldn't work up the anxiety to drop Millicent and sprint out the nearest window. Instead, he swallowed down the rush of nervousness, the adrenaline, and he grinned, trying to allow this - this surprise, this man - into his life. To see this. Everything. The person he'd been - before.

"Wrong!" He called back over the instrumental break. "They'd be damned smart! Have you seen me? I'm a - " mongrel - "poor life decision!"

He paused and grinned at Rylan before raising his voice and singing the rest of the song to him. "Doesn't matter what you do, I'll be there for you, I'll be there for you - doesn't matter what you say, 'cause I'm here to stay - what I'm trying to say - "

And laughed again. He let Millicent go and the cat immediately padded for the new set of legs, content to rub herself against Rylan, a purr loud in her throat. Apparently she didn't forget the man from their last encounter.

"You on the other hand," he said as he closed the gap between them, letting his hands come to rest on the nape of his neck and cocking his head to the side, "you would be the biggest damn mistake to throw away. The person who wins your heart is going to be the luckiest guy - or girl - in the world."

He raised his brows at Rylan, his grin matching the firefighters.

"I didn't think you'd show. I'm glad though. They really should make an Ashdown Fire Department calendar. You are a sight for sore eyes." <******** it, Thorne was throwing everything to the wind today. His place was a mess, his life was a mess, but Rylan had been the first bright light in his life and he wasn't going to ******** that up.

"Just that?" Thorne responded, his expression wicked and charmed. He tilted his head, exposing the sharp line of ink that spread and spiderwebbed across his collarbone, ending just below his neck in a curve like the corner of fleur-de-lis.

"And only the second time? Damn. Get the first guy or girl to petition it," he said, his voice low and amused, "I'm sure the whole of Ashdown would rise up to overthrow the decision."

He stepped back into the apartment, an invitation that extended to Ry. "Sorry about the mess, I - " He paused, his tone stuttering on something like nerves and embarrassment before he grinned, sheepishly, "I lost my cellphone in the mess of cleaning. I really didn't know you were coming or I would have made an attempt to look decent."

His hand fluttered to his neck in self-conscious habit, dragging from the scar down the front of his chest, knowing that there were no way to hide the ink or the marks of his entire past from view.

But he was in a good mood, so today - today maybe it didn't have to matter so much.

The only thing that could make it better was -

Thorne bit his lip to stem that thought. He knew better than to be selfish. "I'm sure," he said, "you're solid on any day of the week. So serenade me." He picked up the iPad linked to the Sonos wireless system he'd bought a few weeks ago and crossed the distance, pressing it into Ry's hands and smiling, on the edge of a tease, something wicked that reflected Ry's expression, "And maybe I'll repay the favor."

What in the actual <********> was going on next door?

Sure, things had gotten significantly better between him and Thorne since their foray at the bar, but he was still trying to be a gracious neighbor and give the man some space. Lucas had heard things being moved around and the louder audio of the door being opened, the pop-esque choice of Thorne's tunes, and quite frankly, he found it insanely endearing. He figured he'd poke his head in to see what was going on later, but for the time being, he'd be good and just focus on the dumbbells in his hands.

At least, that was the plan, until he heard a voice in the lull between songs.

A very familiar voice that was not Thorne's.

Lucas put the dumbbells down and moved closer to the wall that he shared with Thorne, head cocked to the side.

I think I called dibs on May --

His jaw dropped suddenly, then snapped back up just as quickly. There was only a brief moment of panic - the two guys who were taking a lead in his life knew each other?! - but it was quickly squashed in the joy of possibility. They knew each other! That was ******** rad! Quickly throwing on a tank and pulling his hair back in a half tail, he ambled out of his apartment and rounded to Thorne's door, opening his mouth to say something --

-- and snapping it shut. Again.

Thorne was shirtless. That usually was enough to put him in a different mood for talking, but seeing Rylan there, a ray of sunshine, looking at Thorne in a way he was familiar with -- damn. These two beautiful men, in the dance of flirting and testing boundaries. The sun and the storm. That was -- this was hot.

Lucas leaned his good shoulder against the doorframe, crossing his ankles and arms, and watched, cheshire grin present and accounted for.

When he turned, his eyes lit up with equal parts surprise and laughter. Lucas! He didn't have to say a word or pause to consider what the man was even doing here, standing in the doorway, watching him and Thorne's impromptu karaoke. It all made sense, as if the song had been written just for this moment.

"I think we have a shot," he answered, waiting for the song, waiting for the lyrics.

"I'm burnin' through the sky yeah, two hundred degrees, that's why they call me Mister Fahrenhe-e-it." He pointed to himself with a sage nod. He did, after all, know what that was like. Then, hoping Thorne would pick up the song right in that moment, he continued, "I'm trav'ling at the speed of light, I wanna make a supersonic man out of yooou."

And the supersonic man in question, of course, was Lucas, sandwiched between them with no escape.

Thorne let his mouth widen into a shameless smile when Rylan acquiesced. There was something that felt right about this all, something that made perfect sense. Here were two men that had walked into his life and thrown everything he'd known into disarray. And maybe he was still running from things in his life, things that had chased him to Ashdown in the first place.

But he wasn't going to run from them.

"Please, a shot?" Thorne said above the music. "Between you and I, we'll wipe the floor with this poor man."

It had to be some work of a miracle, something ******** determined by the heavens, that Lucas let Thorne sandwich him between both Rylan and him, the grin infectious on his lips. "I'll show you," he said low to him, "All the dangerous things you're getting into with me. Us."

And lifting his voice, he sang back at Rylan, right on cue because he'd been a goddamn performer once in his life. His voice lilted, an octave lower but still on pitch, and he looked at the firefighter behind Lucas with a shameless glint in his eye.

Because how was it - how was it that the two men in his life that had all but pulled him into the open, slit a chasm in his chest, were here, now - and seemed to know each other?

And why - why did it feel fine to just go with it?

He shuddered against Lucas's touch, but his smile told the other man that it was from pleasure - not anything else. He could worry himself away later. Later.

He swayed his hips to the beat of the song beating through the apartment, every bit the performer, every bit the tease, perhaps because he wanted to see them both happy. Happy and happier. He let his fingers glide up Lucas's arms, coming to rest against his neck so that his thumbs slid over the mans jaw and he tilted his head to the side, raising his chin and singing the rest of the song to him before it slowly wound to a close.

In the aftermath, as shuffle picked another trashy pop choice for them, he couldn't help grinning. "Hey, neighbor," he said, his voice raw. He glanced to Rylan, eyes wild and vivid as a thunderstorm crackling in the distance.

"So," he said, breathless, "I think that serenade was a success, yeah?"

He can feel his body, but not much else. Arms, check: legs, check: beak--

--beak?--

Try as he might to look around, he can't.

He's trapped.