Chapter Text
“Nick!” Shit, fuck.
Sean tried - again - to reach Nick, calling through the earpiece. Even as he did, he knew it was pointless: through the surveillance camera, Sean could see that Nick’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, his body slowly slumping forward onto the table.
Adalind had him completely under her spell.
He clenched his teeth. The ‘beist in him was rising to the surface, shouting at him to roar and fight and rip out Adalind’s throat with his bare hands. He wanted to see her blood spilled on the floor of the diner, her eyes empty and unseeing, her arms ripped from her body. Not the best way to think about a co-parent, he knew, but how fucking dare she try to threaten and hurt Nick.
But Sean held himself back; he knew how be careful, how to make his move at the right time. He considered the scene. Images were coalescing in Adalind’s coffee cup, too faint for him to see clearly over the security camera, but he thought he saw lines, perhaps… a swing set? He focused his gaze; there was indeed a swing set, a child, Nick… but. Hadn’t Nick said, not so long ago, that children weren’t important? Hadn’t he in fact referred to a swing set specifically, saying that he didn’t need one in the backyard of the home they were hoping to share?
Pain lanced through him, sudden and fierce. So he wasn’t truly what Nick wanted, after all. As much as Nick might protest his love, still, deep down, a family that Sean could not provide was more important to him. Sean closed his eyes against the truth of it, there in a cup of cheap diner coffee. He’d been a fool to hope. For so many years he’d kept himself apart, closed off. He knew now that that had been the right choice for him, and that this… relationship, whatever it was… with Nick couldn’t continue. Even if Nick believed he loved Sean now, it couldn’t last.
But that didn’t change how Sean felt, and in this moment, the man he loved - would always love, no matter their circumstances - needed him. He could mourn later.
In a breath, he channeled the fire in his breaking heart to the cookers in the kitchen of the diner; focused his energy there. He felt the pressure, the burn of it, as it rushed through and poured out of him. He’d barely accessed this part of himself, this… energy… (he refused to call it magic) in a long time; chose to use the physical strength of his ‘beist over other attributes. But it sang and surged at his command, easy as thought. The force of it, the strength! He could feel it in the air around him, humming, purring. It built, built… there it was, so close… but he needed to ensure the connection was broken; Nick needed to be unconscious, or Adalind could continue to draw from the vision.
“Sorry, love,” he murmured, unconsciously echoing Nick’s own words back at him, as he turned some of his focus to the salt shaker on the table behind Nick.
In a crack, it happened. The cookers exploded, the diner windows shattered, and the salt shaker hit Nick hard on the back of his head, knocking him unconscious.
Things went flying, but Sean could only watch over the security footage and wait for the dust to settle. Eventually, he knew, Adalind would flee the scene, and he’d be able to get Nick to safety.
While he waited, he focused on Nick, still slumped unconscious on the table, Adalind’s coffee spilled beside him, probably making a mess in his hair.
Sean couldn’t see anything in the coffee any longer; he’d succeeded in breaking the spell, at least.
He held fast to his concentration, keeping Nick safe from all the random debris, until finally Adalind was gone and the coast was clear.
He rushed into the diner and gently scooped Nick into his arms, bridal style, and then carried him out the back, through the destroyed kitchen. He really had made a mess: none of the cookers remained standing, and the floor was a minefield of broken ceramics and torn-up cookware. He raised his eyebrows at a particularly misshapen griddle as he passed; he hadn’t known he could achieve that. But he couldn’t feel bad about it; Nick was safe. He’d send a clean-up crew shortly - they could also pick up any surveillance equipment he’d abandoned in his hurry to get to Nick.
Sean was thankful they’d chosen a diner on the outskirts of town. It had been deliberate, of course. The place got little custom, especially at this time of day, and being on the fringes of the forest as it was, it made it easier for him to walk the distance to his car - hidden well away from the diner parking lot - without anyone noticing that he was carrying an unconscious man.
Despite the situation, Sean took a moment to appreciate the feeling of Nick in his arms, drinking in his unfairly long lashes, his impossible cheekbones. He watched Nick’s chest rise and fall in even breaths, could sense that he’d be okay once he regained consciousness - probably another aspect to the Zauberbeist power he’d drawn on earlier.
In the rare moments he allowed himself to daydream, Sean had imagined, hoped, to carry Nick like this - under infinitely better circumstances - over the threshold of their home; wherever they found it. Had imagined Nick’s arms around his neck instead of hanging limp, his beautiful eyes alight with laughter rather than closed and unaware, his cheeks flushed with happiness rather than pale and clammy with the after-effects of Adalind’s potion.
But it wasn’t to be.
Gently, Sean shifted Nick in his arms to ensure his comfort as they at last approached the car.
“I’ll keep you safe, love. No matter what,” Sean promised, as he brushed a soft kiss across Nick’s forehead.