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Leo was at the wall before he decided to be.

He’d meant to wait in the kitchen while Nate prepared. Then as he’d found himself moving, he’d changed his plan to standing at the top of the stairs. But he couldn’t stop himself there. The reasonable part of his brain was shutting down and now that he knew danger was approaching, he needed to be in the basement. In the corner, in the dark, his back to the stones.

His post.

No. Not his post. A wall. It was a wall, and behind it were things that belonged to him.

Nobody comes down here.

“He does,” Leo said, to no one, to himself. “I asked him to.”

The furnace crouched in its corner. The window well let in a gray square of morning. Leo knew every inch of this basement, every shadow the little window made as the day moved. He had stood guard over this corner longer than he had done anything else in his life or after it, and he could not remember a single reason why.

That needed to change.

The basement door opened at the top of the stairs.

Light came down first. Then Nate, work boots on the sheeted steps, the sledge in one hand.

Get him out.

Leo’s edges prickled. Somewhere behind the stones, a pipe knocked.

“It’s me,” Leo said through his teeth. “I’m here. I’m still here.”

Nate reached the bottom, set up two work lights, and looked at him. Whatever he saw made him set the sledge down, head against the floor, handle leaning against the wall. Out of his hands.

“Hey,” Nate said.

“You should start.” Leo heard his own voice come out wrong. Flat and high at once. “You should start now, while I’m still—“ The pipe knocked again, harder. “Start.”

Nate didn’t start. Nate walked toward him. Past the sledge, past the workbench, empty-handed, into the corner where the thing under Leo’s skin was rising like water, and Leo wanted to tell him to stop and wanted to tell him to hurry, but the two wants used the same throat, and what came out was nothing at all.

Nate took Leo’s face in both hands.

His touch was warm.

“Don’t,” Leo managed. “It’s already—I’m not⁠—“

“I know,” Nate said, and kissed him.

The water stopped rising.

His protective instincts didn’t abandon him. The sense of duty trying to sway him was still there, but the old thing inside of him was too confused to act. There was no precedent for this. Guard-ghost Leo knew how to fight, how to scare people away. He did not know what to do about a man’s mouth, gentle, tasting of bitter green.

Leo grabbed a fistful of flannel and held on.

Nate broke the kiss slow. He didn’t step back. Forehead down against Leo’s, hands still on his face, thumb moving once along his cheek.

“Bartholomew if you need me,” he said. “Everything else means keep going.”

“Everything else means keep going,” Leo whispered.

Nate let go. The warmth went with him as he walked back across the basement, picked up the sledge, and prepared to get to work.

He looked at Leo once.

Leo nodded.