Chapter Text
So kiss me now
This whiskey on my breath
Feel the lives that I have taken
What little soul that I have left
And oh, my god,
I’ll take you to the grave
The only love I’ve ever known
The only soul I’ve ever saved
--
“Chasing Twisters” by Delta Rae
They never really went after Montoya and Katrina after killing Valek. Jack had checked them into a hotel after helping Adam wash off all the blood and vampire juices off in a gas station bathroom, shoved the priest up against the door after tossing his bag onto the desk, and said that if Adam breathed a word of anything to do with the other two to the Vatican, he wouldn’t hesitate to gut him and leave him in the desert for the vultures to rip him apart.
Fair enough.
He hadn’t planned on it anyway - shooting a Cardinal after the man had tried to simultaneously crucify and burn at the stake a vampire slayer to raise the antichrist really butchered his trust in all things organised Roman Catholic.
The first few weeks they were just going, trying to put some space between them and any of Valek’s remaining minions. The cash the church had last sent dwindled, then vanished in a hearty meal at a truck stop that had to last them two, ideally three days, where Jack tossed a sweet potato fry into his mouth, leaned in to steal the last bite of Adam’s garlic bread, and said, “Bounty hunters are searching the car, padre,” and then they were running for real. By the time the three grizzled dog-tag-wearing men in military fatigues were dead in the Arizona-New Mexico desert after a shootout where Adam used more guns than he’d ever seen in movies and Jack had solidified his position in vampire-slayer folklore, the pair of them had driven to the nearest town, got a room at the cheapest motel with whatever cash the men had in their pockets, and slept for over 24 hours each. After that they just roamed the roads, stopping by wherever the papers talked about murder rates, and through some of Jack’s distant, near anonymous contacts they found out there had been a rise in vampire attacks since they had taken their break, and then after nearly six months of the slayer doing very illegal and immoral things to get them enough money to survive that Adam had no choice but to tag along for, the Church reached out. The phone call nearly had the police called on them, and he kept his hands over his ears the moment Jack started swearing at whatever official was on the other line, but by the end of it, the Vatican had written them enough of a check for them to be legal again.
Then, out of the blue, they had started to be sent a team.
Cooper was first, a blonde-haired blue-eyed slim medic from the Canadian mounties that reminded Adam of a golden retriever, loyal and positive and quickly close enough to Jack to make him more than slightly jealous of the way their heads would be dipped together, looking over a map of wherever their next nest might be. Next was Magnus, an older man whose rounded grey beard and appearance reminded him of dockyard laborer stereotypes, but kept his past to himself. Ever since he had knocked on their hotel door after a nest, the man had the thickest southern accent he had ever heard, sometimes nearing unintelligible. On the rare occasion Adam was paired up in a room with them, he caught glimpses of tattoos in other languages and badly-healed scars that spoke of something other than a shipyard.
That was the other thing about assembling a team, the sharing of Jack with other people that just didn’t understand. Adam had long, long ago stopped trying to lie to himself, that his attraction to the vampire slayer wasn’t just hero worship or trauma-bonding-gone-haywire, because on the all-too-common nights where he woke up shuddering, sitting straight up as his nightshirt was soaked with sweat, and his eyes saw the cross Jack was tied to bursting into flames and Valek’s teeth burying themselves into the his own neck, the slayer was awake right next to him, shoving a glass of water into his hand, whisper-yelling at him that he needed to wake up because the son of a bitch is dead and your worry is gonna give me a heart attack padre, hate seeing the Good Father all frantic over a sinner like me. It also may have been the way they never brought their clothes into the bathroom if they showered, choosing to wrap the towel around their waist and dig through their bedside bag, giving Adam plenty of time to steal appreciative looks at the flex of muscle in their back as they stretched, to notice how much softer their expression was after standing under the hot spray for the ten minutes they were allowed.
So now that there were others there, sometimes the room wasn’t just him and Jack and the cloud of real and imagined nightmares - sometimes it was all four of them on double beds and Magnus’s snores and Cooper’s blanket hogging, or it wouldn’t be him and Jack at all, and then whenever he did wake from something, whoever was in the room would just... give him space instead of reminding him that he was alive, that they made it. Those nights hurt, and eventually, the rhythm between the four became an unspoken agreement that he and Jack would share a room because they were both the most messed up, and when they had all finally started to get along, they were sent another three members, about a month apart.
Roach, who reminded him of Jack’s violence but quieter and larger, showed up at the end of their last nest in a whirlwind of taxi dust and coughing. They were about the same height as Adam with thicker, more obvious muscles, but always watching, listening, noticing. Adam became very good at stealing glances after the man joined, and he assumed they were ex-military from the dog tags he saw slip from their shirt after they changed one day.
Charley was the crazy one. He even looked the part, the shortest in the group with what little hair he had left standing on end, a cigarette always smoking from the corner of their mouth, always wanted to blow stuff up, light the fire, torture the vampires to find out where to go next. Adam didn’t trust him, never turned his back, and the few times he had to, because Jack asked for something or he could because Magnus was right there and surely that meant he was safe, he’d turn back around to find Charley’s grey-blue eyes were focused intently on him, expression terrifyingly empty, and Adam would usually just flee to Jack’s side, because they were the only person the man seemed to respect in the group.
Their newest addition was a barely legal kid named Theo, who had barely been with them for three months now. According to the Vatican, he’d saved a priest from a gang attack in Chicago and had to be sent out of the city for his own safety - something about how he fought made them match him with the team of vampire slayers, even though he looked like a brunette cherub from paintings on church ceilings. To everyone’s surprise, he’d attached himself to Adam more than Jack, acting almost like he was afraid of the slayer, even requesting confessionals every Sunday after the team’s informal mass. Adam didn’t know how to feel about that.
No one in their newly-minted team was any good; sure, they could kill the goons and burn the evidence and party hard enough to blend in with Hollywood, but they didn’t understand that these were monsters, didn’t see what they’d do if left unchecked. None of them had seen a throat ripped out with nothing but teeth, seen the way a person changed after the bite, or blown their boss clean through with a shotgun. They all slept easy, which meant that Jack and Adam were shouldering all the side effects of the job and nearly trading off nightmares when they started appearing every other night like clockwork. Jack’s bad dreams were less obnoxious, a loud gasp and thrashing in the sheets on their side of the bed, easily ended by Adam grabbing their arm or hand and squeezing, hard, stilling their movements enough for them both to try and sleep, but the vulnerability between them felt bittersweet. More than once the priest had woken up with a strangled yell to find Jack’s hand keeping him in place by the center of his chest, voice muttering low reassurances over his shoulder, and last night, when he woke from the newest dream to only Magnus shoving a water bottle into his hand and rolling over, something inside his ribs ached with the loss.
A series of attacks in the southwest corner of the state brought them to a near-abandoned warehouse district in the desert town of Crocker, New Mexico, large enough to have more than just a Main Street and small alleyways off it. Nothing too suspicious, the usual drug addicts and criminals vanishing, but the frequency of these incidents in such a small area was enough to draw the Vatican’s attention and send the team their way, so now their van was rolling to a stop outside a large building on a hill, long concrete steps leading to the darkened doorway.
Roach was up front, driving, next to Jack, while the rest of the team was leaning against the equipment lockers in the back. This was the only time that Adam enjoyed being just one of the group, one of the background - Jack tended to get aggressive before a fight and Roach liked to match his energy, the pair pumping each other up, and blending into the team made sure that Jack didn’t treat him with kid gloves any longer.
The doors were thrown open and they all poured out, Theo starting to pass out the armor, Charley working on pulling down the weapons each person preferred, crossbows, spears, and guns alike. The air was crackling with the usual amount of tension that happened before they cleared a nest, and it only took a few minutes before they all took their positions at the edge of the property, Cooper and Theo staying outside with the pulling rig as the rest of them settled into the pyramid they used to clear buildings.
Jack told him once that the last priest he’d had on the team preferred to stay outside and didn’t support the killing, like how Adam had been when he’d first started, before he knew what they were capable of - they’d wait outside with the puller and say last rites over the bodies as they burned in the sunlight. He’d considered it for barely a day. He preferred to be in there, keeping an eye on everything, mainly Jack, but he needed to be doing things, being a direct part of it, or his hands would start to twitch and the anxiety of the helplessness from being outside the fighting would clog his throat. In fact, the morning after the slayer had offered the role to him Adam had told him just as much. Jack had done a little half-grin, stomped out his cigarette, and said, “Thank god. I wouldn’t trust any of these new jack-*ffs the church has been sending us to properly watch my back without stickin’ a knife in it.”
And that was how Adam found himself where he was now, behind and just to the left of Jack’s leather jacket, raising his gun as Roach did the same. The beams of light from the spears behind them focused on the double door leading into the empty warehouse. “Just kick the door in, Jack, what’re you waiting for?” Magnus said quietly, and Charley nodded enthusiastically.
“I’m wishin’ I could pick the lock and get the jump on these f*ckers,” Jack replied back, sitting into one hip. “It stinks of an ambush. I don’t like it.”
“We can take em, we have before. Let’s go kick some ass.” Roach lifted his gun, as if cheering them on, and when the rest of the team gave subdued yells, Adam reached forward to give Jack’s arm a squeeze, to reassure both of them that they’d watch out for each other.
The slayer rolled his eyes at the rest of the team’s antics. “Alright alright, settle down you hooligans.” After a few moments of quiet Jack unceremoniously kicked in the door and they all silently filed into the dark warehouse, heads on a swivel. Nothing in the carpeted lobby as they crept through, no bodies in the first conference room they managed to get into. Ambush, Jack mouthed, looking concerned despite the sunglasses and hard jaw, and Adam and Roach readied themselves as Jack turned the knob to the third door, this one most likely leading towards the back warehouse area, and pushed it to open inwards.
Instantly the goons were on them, swooping down from the rafters and from around corners with shrieking cries, going for the throat, the face, any exposed skin. Adam fired at two from over Jack’s shoulder, not waiting to see if the shots landed before throwing himself towards the closest wall on his left, and he barely dodged the swipe of another vampire’s claws aimed at his head. “Father!” someone shouted, then a wooden stake was pushed into his hand from somewhere and he spun around, forearm braced across the creature’s neck to keep its snapping teeth at bay while he stabbed the stake into its chest, the blood bubbling from the wound and spilling over his arms in a sticky mess.
“Here!” Magnus appeared at his back, body jerking with the gun recoil before shoving a tether bolt into the vampire’s side as it howled.
Adam managed to jerk the stake out, pushing at his earpiece. “Got one, go!” It thrashed against his arm on its throat for a moment before it was flying backwards across the warehouse floor, out the door they all came in through, and across the room he watched Jack punch a vampire in the face, knocking it to the concrete and stabbing the base of its skull with the stake in a holster on his back. “Jack,” he called, stepping closer when they didn’t look up at him, only to move back out of the way for a shrieking goon that tried to claw at his ankles on the way past. “Jack,” Adam tried again but louder, “where’s the master? Have you seen-”
Whatever else Adam had planned to say was forced from his lungs as a vampire tackled him to the ground, talons digging into his shoulders as they pinned him, easily holding him still despite how frantically he was writhing and bucking. There was a series of gunshots whipping through the air above his head but the creature didn’t seem bothered, tangling a fist into his hair to jerk Adam’s head painfully back, back enough to make breathing hard, and he knew that this angle was showing off his fluttering pulse even above the heavy chainmail collar Jack made him wear every time. There were another two shots, he saw the muzzle flash from the far corner of the room, and then he was desperately straining for the stake that had rolled out of his reach, fingers clawing at the concrete floor as the hold on his hair tightened enough for the sting to spark a wetness in his eyes.
“sh*t, the master’s got the Father!” someone shouted. Adam let out a pained sound as the vampire used its hold on his hair to jerk him up to stand with it in one movement, the creature’s body pressed up against his back as it used him as a shield, and as it let out a low chuckle air ghosted over his bare neck and the priest didn’t dare even breathe. He was so screwed, they were already pulling him backwards with them and he had to cling to their arms because if he stumbled their teeth were right there -
“You smell delicious, Father Guiteau,” the master purred into his neck, and as they passed he could see the panic on Magnus’s face, working to impale a female goon on his own spear.
“How-” He swallowed hard, and words failed him for a moment as they pressed a mocking kiss against his skin. “How do you know my name?”
“Oh everyone knows of you and Crow,” they replied dismissively, and the pair passed through a doorway that slammed shut in the face of his entire team. Adam started mouthing his final rites, not trusting himself to speak and bring his death faster than it needed to come. Every muscle in his body was tensed and ready to move, to do something. Another brush of the master’s fangs made him cease the prayer completely, closing his eyes to recite the lines in his mind. “Little slayer and his precious priest. Many will be pleased to hear that I’ve managed to separate you two forever.”
A gun co*cked somewhere in the room, Adam dropped, as much as the vampire’s hold allowed him to, and at the gunshot the master screeched, letting go of his hair to claw at his shoulders as he sank completely onto the floor. There was a loud, disgusting squelch, for a brief moment he wondered if they had sunk their teeth into some other part of him, and then the creature went limp, body nearly smothering his own.
“sh*t, padre?” Jack’s voice cut through the adrenaline. “You still with us? Guiteau?”
The body was rolled off and to the side, letting Adam flip onto his back and finally take in heaving lungfuls of air. “Fine,” he wheezed, opening his eyes to the next image that would color his dreams: Jack standing over him with a bloody stake in one hand, crossbow in the other, panic obvious on their face. “Thanks.”
“Smartass.” They holstered the stake and offered him the hand instead. “You look like hell. Lot of blood on you for someone who’s fine.”
“Not even a scratch,” Adam promised, trying not to think about how warm and firm their hand was in his own as he was easily pulled to his feet. “I can go get checked over by Cooper if it’ll help you sleep at night-”
“Alright, knock that sh*t off padre, still got a lot of those bastards to go through.” Jack clapped him on the shoulder as he passed, sauntering with his crossbow raised, back to his old arrogant self like nothing had happened, and Adam allowed himself only a few moments of watching them go before adjusting his gear and trying to convince himself he would be fine following them back into the fray.
The team had the other vampires either dragged outside or under control by the time he stopped shaking enough to be of use, and the rest of the warehouse was easy, the building so gutted by the locals that there weren’t many places for the remaining few goons to hide and the team made easy work of them. Some of the guys inside, Roach and Charley in particular, started to let their guard down, joking around and opening side doors without a weapon up, and by the third time, Adam could see Jack’s knuckles growing white with how hard he was gripping his weapon.
“Right, so then this dog jumped out and-“
“Hey,” Adam said, cutting off Roach mid-sentence, “if you two can’t take this seriously then why don’t you go start cleaning up outside.”
Charley and Roach shared a glance. “Why? We got all of em.”
“No you didn’t,” Adam and Jack said at the same time, and the priest sighed, shaking his head. “Not all of them are crazy on bloodlust, okay? Some of them will hide and wait until we’re alone.” Some of them are smart was unsaid, but the look he stole at Jack showed it was a mutual feeling. “Until the building is completely engulfed and the master is dead, you treat every shadow and corner like it’s going to kill you, that’s the only way you can stay alive doing this kind of work.”
The other men shared a similar glance, then Charley shrugged. “It’s all f*cking yours, man, I’m starting to suffocate in all the dust anyway.”
They both waited until they heard the pair’s footsteps fade to silence before moving again, Adam shifting so Jack could brush past and he could watch their backs. “Sometimes I think these idiots wanna be f*ckin bit,” Jack muttered, shoving open the next door.
The rest of the open, loading dock area of the warehouse was cleared without issue and in the uneasy silence that was reminiscent of when they had first started working together, right after beating Valek. The only light coming in was through broken windows above each of the bays, and Adam allowed himself to breathe once they passed through the double door that led back to the office area, filled with enough windows to illuminate every inch of the room. “I think we’re good,” he said quietly, lowering his weapon when they were back in the first room of the building. The door was still wavering on its hinges, and Jack slung his crossbow back over his shoulder.
“I think you’re right, padre. Finally. This place took f*cking forever.” He sauntered up to one of the desks still half standing, pulling a bolt from it and looking it over. “Who do you reckon fired this one? Magnus?” Adam made a non-commital noise and leaned against another desk, watching the way Jack’s shoulders flexed beneath their leather jacket as they slipped the bolt into their quiver. “Yeah you’re right, he’s better than that. Probably Charley, he’s been gettin’ a little too co*cky for my tastes.” They shifted to go rifle through the drawers on another overturned desk next to them, bending at the waist, and the priest quickly turned his head before he got caught appreciating the way their ass fit into this pair of Levi’s.
A creak caught his attention, and before Adam could even register the vampire lunging for Jack on the other side of the room his body was flying through the air to collide with it halfway, weapon and warning noise forgotten in favor of just getting there first. They both thudded to the concrete floor, winding him as the creature easily rolled on top, trying to push his wrists to the ground even as he thrashed in its grip, and he could already feel the bruises forming. It was snarling, fangs extended and already closer to his throat than he wanted as he fought back with everything he had, arms shaking with the effort of keeping them up, keeping them between his frenzied pulse and the goon’s animal instinct, and just as he thought his muscles would give out and go limp, the vampire made a gurgling sound and the point of a stake emerged from its mouth, the body collapsing onto him. Adam suddenly remembered how to breathe, gasping in lungfuls of air despite the crushing weight on his chest, and then Jack was using a foot to roll the body off to the side.
“You alive, Padre? Clean?”
“Yeah,” he wheezed out, and he couldn’t stop his shout when they grabbed the front of his shirt with both hands and lifted him to standing, slamming his back into the nearest wall.
“That was the dumbest sh*t I’ve ever seen anyone do padre, don’t you ever f*cking do that again!” Jack snarled at him, and suddenly he was on the rock on the side of the road again, their handgun pointed at his face.
“It was going for you!” Adam shouted back, pushing back on their chest so they moved away enough for him to breathe. “I had to do something, I couldn’t - I can’t just watch you die!”
Jack closed the gap between them with a dangerous smirk and backed him against the wall again with a forearm pressed to the front of his neck, hard enough to convince the priest to flatten himself back. “Oh come on padre, let’s be realistic here - it’s gonna take a whole horde of masters stronger than Valek to take me out, alright. An’ I bet if I asked nicely they’d shove me into a grave themselves, do all the work for you so you don’t get your precious priest uniform dirty diggin the hole.”
They were close, too close, almost close enough to feel how hard he’d gotten in his pants and see how he had to fight to keep his eyes trained on their own instead of drifting down to the lips that were right there and undoubtedly chapped from the way they tended to lick them. Adam took in a shaky breath and made sure his gaze matched the slayer’s when he rasped, “You’d better outlive me, Jack.”
It felt like an eternity before either of them moved, before either of them even looked away, and Jack was the one that finally took a step backwards, dropping his arm away from Adam’s neck to shove his hands in the back pocket of his jeans. It felt like something in the air cleared and Adam could finally breathe again. “Look, padre, you were a good man once upon a time, so I’m gonna give you a little heads-up.” They took another staggering step back, then spun away, lighting up a cigarette, and the priest stayed pressed to the wall like it was his job. “If I were you, I’d stay outta the room between the hours of 7 and 12 tonight, wouldn’t want to scare ya with what’s gonna be happenin'.”
“Why? What’s going on?”
Jack sauntered out into the sunlight and Adam hurried to catch up, brushing what dust and gore he could off his sleeves. “You ever get a little stiffy when you do all this vampire killing, padre? All that adrenaline gets that blood pumping to all parts of your body?” He made a crude gesture and Adam grimaced, shifting his gaze away even as the flush crept up his neck. “Cause I do. f*cking ebony.”
“If you just want some alone time just say it Jack, you don’t have to make it sound so mysterious.”
Stopping at the top of the building steps but still a ways away from their newly cobbled team, Jack held out a hand to stop him as well. “You act like a blushing virgin every time I bring it up, I was trying to be considerate.” He took a long drag then released it, the smoke smell doing little to cover up the cloud of burned vampire that hovered over their empty block. “And, I was plannin on bringin somebody else up, keep me company for the while, if you catch my drift. Some of the ladies on the corner were lookin fine when we left.”
Adam's mind started to wander, picturing the few times he’d seen Jack shirtless and sweaty and imagined them kneeling over some pretty blonde like Katrina, the girl Montoya ran away with, and the thought made a part of him curl his fists in distaste. “Why are you telling me all this? I don’t care about who you bring up, so long as none of them go running to the church.”
At that Jack chewed on his cigarette and turned to face him, arms crossed and hip co*cked, voice low. “Because you’re the only one of them f*ckers I trust to share a room, or a bed with. So you’d better not go shacking up with somebody else while I’m busy.”
“You’d save a lot of our money if you just used what was in front of you.” The words slipped out before he could stop them but Adam tried to pretend they didn’t happen, brushing past their shoulder to start down the steps in the skip-gallop Jack made fun of him for every time, until two fingers curled into the back of his stiff collar jerked him into a stop. “Let me go, Jack.”
“What’d you say to me?” The hand on the back of his neck slid up into his hair, pulling tightly until he was forced to lean back and ease the tension. “You volunteerin somebody else from our crew for the chopping block?”
“No sir,” he replied, with as much sass as usual, and Jack swore under his breath, as if Adam couldn’t hear every sound they made from how tightly he was wound.
“Well f*ck me, padre, it sounds like you’re good for it. Got me a little altar boy, huh?” The hand released his hair but before he could move his chin back down their palm slid around to the front, wrapping around his neck in a strangle that felt far too intimate for the near-deserted street they were on, forefinger pressing into his carotid like it had a point to make.
“You effing wish,” he managed to get out, sounding a little too breathless and good for it for his liking, and his body burned because the entire team had their eyes on him and Jack and this weird display the man wanted to make of him.
Whatever he did convinced the man to ignore the raging hard-on the priest had in his clergy uniform and release him, sliding the hand up for a thumb to stroke along his jaw, then drop back to their side. “Just one of these days, padre, you gotta give me a nice loud ‘f*ck’, ya know? Like a dying gift or something, just wanna hear the good Father come undone sometime.”
His heart was pounding in his chest just thinking about all the ways Jack could make him come undone. “I’ll think about it.” He shook his head and resumed his way down the stairs, ignoring the looks from the rest of the team as he started disassembling the various guns and weapons strapped to his body. The routine helped down the boner that had emerged from Jack’s manhandling and not the killing, thank you very much, letting his mind shift towards a hot shower and a semi-soft couch in the room with one of the new recruits as he popped magazines back into their holders in the van.
“Hey, Father.” Theo slid up next to him and broke the trance, awkwardly dismantling his weapon with the newness of a fawn. “I, uh... What was Mister Crow doing up there?”
“What do you mean?”
“Dunno, it just... it didn’t look like something he should be doing to a priest.”
Adam pulled the wooden stake from its holder at his waist to put it in the labelled bin, holding a hand out for the younger man’s. “Jack just does what he wants, within reason, and in return, he’s kept us alive this long.” They fumbled to grab their own stake and Adam semi-patiently watched before tossing it to join the others. He carefully set his gun into the next locker, adding extra bullets into the ammo box, and Theo chewed on his lower lip and mimicked him. “Spit it out,” the priest said quietly, stilling their movements with a hand on their arm.
Theo seemed to hesitate, took a deep breath, then leaned in. “Is it true, everything Magnus and Roach are saying about you and Jack? That you were clearing nests, just you two, for like months? That a master took out all his old team?”
He couldn’t help the flinch that came from the memory of the fights with Valek, pausing in his disassembly to lean on the wall of lockers to try and ground himself. “Yes,” he replied quietly, and from the way they shifted, Theo hadn’t expected such a blanket agreement. “All of that happened. Why are you asking me about it?”
“I just... I just assumed it meant you and Jack were close.” They paused again, looking down at their hands now as they twisted together. “I was hoping you could put in a good word for me, help me get promoted to something inside.”
“You want to be in the action?” Adam was reminded how painfully, painfully young Theo was when the light from the gold cross and chain around their neck caught the light and his eye. “You’re sure you can handle being responsible for yourself and everybody else on the team?”
“Yes Father, I think so. Definitely less responsibility at the start, but I think I could handle it.”
Adam stared at them for a moment, and he could see their death in front of his eyes: throat nearly ripped loose by a goon’s fangs, ugly red spurting out of the empty spot beneath their jaw, hands clinging to whatever they find before slowly loosening and falling limp. “I’ll talk to him,” he conceded, dipping his head, and the brightness in their smile makes him a little sick.
“Cool, thanks Father!” Theo finished with the last piece of his gun and practically bounced to where his usual seat against the lockers was, and Adam shook himself to will the vision away, quickly finishing with his own weapon before sinking to the floor.
The rest of the team wandered their way in, chattering about their dramatic kills and near-death moments the same way he imagined teenagers would talk about the drama in high school hallways, and if he let his mind wander, he saw each of them turning out like Katrina at the end, pale and bloodsoaked, or Montoya, trembling and awake and aware as the transformation happened. Someone shut the van doors, the only light coming in the square windows in the back, and Adam closed his eyes to a heated discussion between Magnus and Charley on whether vodka or beer tasted better after doing a line.
He woke with a start as the doors to the van were thrown open, Roach waving towards the building looming in front of them. “Jack’s got the rooms, everybody out.”
Everyone slipped out, stretching and yawning in the cool night air as they headed into the lobby. Jack met them just outside the door, grinning and dangling two keys from one hand, a beer already open in the other. “Room 307, 309 with double beds and fold-out couches for you punks to party in, padre and I will be tryin to get our beauty sleep in 318. Try and keep it down for the sake of us old men.” There was a loud, teasing cheer from the rest of the team as they started towards the elevator, someone snatching the keys, and Adam followed suit until Jack wrapped a hand around his forearm, which was as good as an order to stay. “They ain’t gonna miss us, Padre,” Jack said in a low voice, the sound more of a rumble that went right to the erection that Adam had just managed to calm down. “An I reckon you’re still good for it, so I’m only gonna ask you this once - do you reckon you can keep it down, or should you and I take a drive?”
