Ruin Everything

Going back to the hotel for the third time wasn't so bad for Charles, especially since they didn't have to spend much time in the lobby. When he stepped into the room, he realized they'd left the place a mess. The ashtray still overflowed with cigarette butts, broken glass still littered the floor from where Ares' threw a bottle at the window, and the metal platter still lay there with untouched food. Chuckling, he grabbed a trash can and moved over to the window, squatting down to pick up the pieces of glass. Once the bigger shards were out of the way, he carefully ran his hand through the carpet, finding several smaller fragments still hidden about the damp fibers.

He stepped past Ares—standing at the bathroom sink, removing his prosthetics—to grab a towel and carried it back to the window. He patted the carpet dry, idly thinking it was a good thing the bottle Ares chose the night before held a clear liquor. Sure, the room might reek of alcohol, but at least the carpet wasn't stained. After soaking up as much of it as he could, he shook the towel out over the wastebasket, just in case it picked up any more glass, and then he carried it back to the bathroom along with the ice bucket. Dumping the water from the ice bucket into the sink, he dropped the towel on the floor next to the door and went back out to the main room.

After emptying the cigarette butts in the trash with the broken glass, he looked down at the tray of half-eaten food. He knew Ares turned away the daily housekeeping the hotel offered, so he wasn't sure if he'd want Charles to call up room service without any other reason. And, it seemed kind of a rude thing to do just for a platter and an ice bucket. Still, the shit would start to stink soon, so he didn't really want to toss the food out in the trash. "What am I supposed to do with this?" he asked, bending down to pick up the tray.

"Call room service," Ares said from where he worked in the bathroom, sounding exasperated.

Charles smirked at Ares' tone, not bothering to explain his reasoning as to why he didn't just do that from the start, figuring Ares wouldn't understand his line of thought anyway. "Just to come get a platter?" He shook his head and muttered, "Fuck, these guys better get paid good." He set the platter down on the table next to the ice bucket and made his way over to the kiosk. "Hey, should I have tipped the guy last night who brought your horosk?"

"No. Their tips come at check out," Ares said.

"Alright, good." Charles looked over the kiosk for a second until he saw an option for housekeeping and moved through the menu until he found 'pick up meal tray'.

He thought about it for a second and figured he'd give them the towel he used to clean up the alcohol, too. Bracing himself against the bathroom door frame, he bent down and grabbed the towel from the floor. Standing up, he smiled and took a minute to watch Ares but then left again before his staring became uncomfortable and Ares started complaining.

After stuffing the towel into the ice bucket, Charles looked around him and lit a cigarillo. Crossing the floor, he glanced over the weird-ass, concave bed before turning enough to plop down on it, sprawling across the mattress on his back. He shifted around a little, stretching out and humming quietly to himself. It wasn't so bad, really. It'd probably take some getting used to if he planned to sleep on one like it regularly, but he figured he'd manage if it was something Ares wanted to put in the apartment.

He took a long drag, blowing the smoke up toward the ceiling. "This place is like … stupid nice."

"Figured you'd be impressed." Ares snorted, the sound of water echoing in the bathroom before he turned it off again. "And it should be for the credits I'm paying."

Charles chuckled, taking a drag. "I've been in hotels like this before, but not … you know, just to relax."

Ares hummed before stepping out of the bathroom, shirt balled in his hand. He tossed it to the corner of the room, kicking his shoes off and out of the way. Making his way first to the coffee table, he grabbed the bottle of horosk they'd brought with them and then sat down on the bed next to Charles.

"So, this rounded bed thing, it's what turians usually sleep on?" Charles raised his eyebrow as he took a drag, turning his head to glance at Ares.

"Yep." Ares unscrewed the cap and took a drink. "We can use flat beds but need special pillows. Lots of them."

Snorting, Charles grinned, letting his voice take on a light, teasing tone. "That makes you sound like such a softie." He took another drag, letting the smoke seep out of him as he shrugged. "'Course, I know you can sleep just about anywhere." Dropping his hand to the mattress, he ran his fingers back and forth over the plush bedding. "This isn't so bad, though."

Ares shrugged as he swallowed another drink. "You can make it suit you better with the pillows. It's how most interspecies pairs do."

"I don't think I'll need much adjusting. Shit," he said, pausing to take a drag, "it's got to be better than a moldy warehouse floor."

Ares lifted a brow plate, smirking. "Then you haven't been sleeping on the right floors."

Huffing a little, Charles tilted his head back to better look up at the turian. "You're the one who insisted that foul smelling place was good enough."

Ares shrugged, taking another long drink. He wasn't drinking quite as fast as he had the night before, but Charles had a feeling if he kept going, he'd wind up getting trashed again before the night was out. He flicked a mandible. "At the time, it was good enough."

"Mmm." Charles reached over to the bedside table, pulling the ashtray over to rest on his stomach before flipping his ashes. "I suppose so. To be honest, I've slept in far worse conditions.

"Your room service has arrived," the VI's voice filled the room.

Charles put out his cigarillo and got up, fetching the bucket and platter before heading for the door. He gave the asari a smile when he answered, feeling like he should apologize. He knew it wouldn't be expected of him, though, so he held it back and passed over the load. "Thanks."

"Of course! Enjoy the rest of your stay!" The asari turned and started walking away, so Charles closed the door.

When he made his way back to the bed, he found Ares surrounded by pillows, stuffed all around his back as he stared intently at his omni-tool. His expression was almost vacant, he seemed so lost in whatever the screen held.

"What are you looking at?" Charles wondered if it was the pictures from the wedding reception, but he didn't want to risk putting Ares in a foul mood if the assumption was wrong.

Ares stayed quiet, his gaze fixed on the omni-tool as he took an extra long drink. Sighing, he said, "Yeah, it's the pictures you sent me. The ones of Maela's celebration."

Charles shook his head, just a little disturbed by the way it seemed Ares sometimes picked thoughts straight out of his head, yet other times seemed so completely clueless about the most obvious of things. He supposed Ares thought the same thing about him, though. Stripping off his jacket and shirt before tossing them aside, he kicked off his shoes and climbed up on the bed to sit at Ares' side.

He looked at the picture a moment, taking in Maela, Dax, and Caetis. Glancing up at Ares, he scraped his teeth over his lip and asked, "You alright that I got so close to them?"

Mandibles sagging, brow plates dipped low, Ares rumbled softly, sounding so lost. "No. It's alright." He took a drink of horosk. "Looks like retirement suits Dad."

"I think he was secretly trying to will me away," Charles said, smiling as he turned his attention back to the picture.

"What makes you think that?" Ares shifted the bottle, wedging it against himself while he zoomed in on the faces in the picture.

Humming, Charles drew a leg up, resting his arm on his knee. "Just a feeling, mostly. I mean, it is kinda weird for a human to crash a turian's wedding. I guess some of it's what Maela said about him being big on organization. I didn't fit the plan." He shrugged. "He was nice, though."

Ares rumbled, the sound vaguely amused. "Dad used to help me with—I guess you could equate it to 'homework'. That's the word, right?"

"Yeah," Charles said with a nod.

"Turians don't really have a special name for it." Ares hummed and took a drink. "But he used to help me with it. Help all of us, really. I swear he used to cringe when he saw us writing outside of the designated writing sections."

Charles chuckled. "I'd asked Maela if I could take her picture—told her that her dress reminded me of the one my aunt wore—but while I was taking her picture with Dax, your dad moved in to remind her—two seconds after telling her the first time—that it was time to cut the cake." He shrugged. "So, I took another one with him there, too."

Murmuring, Ares took another drink and changed the image on the screen to the one of just Dax and Maela. "I wonder if she'll change her colony paints to match his."

"Is that common?" Charles asked, studying the purple lines sweeping over Dax's carapace.

Ares shrugged. "It depends. It really doesn't mean much now. Before, it was showing where your loyalties laid during the Unification War, but now it's mostly to show you're loyal to any kind of governing force." He took a drink before adding, "If you want to be specific, it means where you consider home, where you would fight for if there ever was another separation among the turian people."

"I haven't seen a whole lot of bonded turian couples together, but only one couple I remember had the same markings." Charles hummed, mulling it over. "Although, I suppose living on the Citadel provides a broader scope of things than living on Palaven or one of the other turian planets."

"You're right. Some of the turians living on Palaven go through that, but like you said, it's only a few who do it now." Ares shrugged and swallowed down more horosk. "I just meant because his are her favorite color."

Charles chuckled, absently nodding his head. "Good of a reason as any, I guess."

"Well, she'd be living on Palaven where colony paints have a more fluid meaning. You can switch them around quite often because, ultimately, they all boil down to belonging to Palaven. Now, if he was from a colony and she had the paints she has now, she might not change them." Ares rumbled, huffing a weak laugh. "I guess it's more complicated than something that doesn't even matter should be."

Shrugging, Charles dug out his cigarillos and lit one. "It matters to them." He took a drag, letting it out slowly. "I can't remember Sarah's favorite color … I feel like I should, though, and I'm an asshole for forgetting."

Ares just hummed and brought the bottle to his mouth, swallowing several times without pausing between.

Charles turned his attention back to the pictures. "The next few are of them cutting the cake and opening gifts, but I recorded her opening the dagger before I left."

Ares stilled, hand hovering above the command to switch to the next picture in the slideshow. A rumbling click escaped his throat before he dropped his arms to his lap, exhaling heavily. "I don't know if I want to see. Did she like it?"

Leaning against Ares' arm, Charles said, "It's alright. It's not going anywhere unless you delete it, you can watch it later if you decide you want to. I deleted them from my omni-tool, though, so don't erase it unless you're sure." He took a deep breath and glanced at Ares' face. " She fucking loved it. They both did."

Ares downed the rest of the bottle and set it on the floor beside the bed. Closing his omni-tool, he let out a heavy breath. "I need to be drunker to have the balls to look at it."

Charles shook his head, taking a drag. "You're gonna kill yourself." The corner of his mouth lifted in a soft smirk as he added, "Want me to order more?"

"There's some more in the pack we brought." Ares hummed and sat back in the pillows, staring at nothing. "And it'll take more than horosk to kill me."

Charles snorted. "Not with as much of it as you've been consuming the last day. Want me to grab it or you want to do it another time?"

Instead of answering, Ares got up and got it himself, stopping to grab his lighter and pack of cigarettes from his jacket. Putting a cigarette between his mouth plates, he lit it on his way back to the bed and got comfortable again. Charles took a deep breath and nodded to himself, settling against the pillows, preparing himself for the long haul. He worried about Ares, knew the turian was barely keeping himself from spiraling out, but Charles was at a loss as to how to help him. He didn't know what the hell to do, and he hated it.

"You should enjoy yourself," Ares said, the open bottle hovering in front of his mouth before he took a drink.

Charles looked around him. "I'm content for the moment." He took a drag from his cigarillo and flipped the ashes off the end. "Though I might check out the hot tub here in a bit."

Ares hummed. "It might be hot enough for us both to enjoy."

Grinning, Charles took another drag. "Didn't think you'd be interested in it."

Ares lowered his bottle and swallowed before asking, "Why not?"

Charles glanced at him, raising an eyebrow. "You take damn near cold showers—which I get—but I'd be happy to have you in there with me."

Nodding, Ares exhaled smoke before taking a long drink. Swallowing, he blew a heavy breath out through his nose. "Fuck, I need to beat the shit out of something."

Charles raised his brows, the sudden switch in Ares' mindset confusing him for a second. "So …" he said, relaxing again, "… we'll go beat the shit out of something."

Growling around his cigarette, Ares blew out the smoke. "Look up one of those people on your 'list.'"

"What makes you think I have a list?" Charles raised an eyebrow. He did have a list. Kinda. But he hadn't talked to Ares about it at all, hell, he hadn't even really solidified the idea of having a list. He'd just spent some time browsing—okay, maybe a lot of time—the files on the program he used to look people up. There were quite a few there who'd caught his eye.

After taking several, long draws from the bottle, Ares finally pulled it away to say, "I'm taking a wild guess."

Pursing his lips, Charles sat up straight and opened his omni-tool. Digging through the programs, he found the one he was looking for and pulled up the information for a man named Brandon Majors. Brandon was a douchebag who C-Sec brought in and released a few weeks ago on his fifth accusation of domestic violence. His wife had been beaten black and blue, but of course, when the time came for her to give her official statement and press charges, she recanted. She'd probably be dead within the year if someone didn't take the asshole out first. Charles sent the profile over to Ares' omni-tool.

Ares held his cigarette between his mouth plates as he looked through the man's information. Soon, he shrugged. "I can deal with killing him. I just need to feel it. Nothing else about him really matters."

Grinning, Charles already felt his heart rate pick up, dumping adrenaline in his system. Muscles tightened, eager to do some damage—even if he just planned to sit back and watch Ares do his thing. Still, he'd definitely see some spilled blood and hear a few screams before the night was out, and the prospect left him feeling jittery. "Guy's ex-Alliance, Cat-6. Big dude, too. He'll at least give you a little bit of a fight."

"All the better," Ares said with a chuckle, taking a drink.

Having remained eerily calm through the ride, hood pulled up and a low hum in his subvocals, Ares lowered the skycar in one of the bar districts of the Bachjret Ward. They were in one of the few areas on the Citadel where humans clustered together, clinging to the familiarity of their own species while pretending to be brave and adventurous by living among the aliens of the Citadel. Better yet, the hunt for Brandon brought them to one of the seedier areas, lots of dark alleys, muggings, prostitutes, drug deals—a real 'pick your poison' sort of area. Charles knew places like it quite well.

He climbed out of the vehicle when Ares brought it to a stop, pulling up his hood and lighting a cigarillo. Staying silent, he watched as Ares checked his omni-tool before closing it and lighting his own cigarette. Ares started walking, leaving the taxi-stand and making his way back out to the strip, and Charles fell into step beside him. They drew—well, Ares drew—more than a few uncomfortable glances as they made way their way deeper into the district, making Charles feel a little like they'd just gone back to Shanxi.

Finally coming to a stop outside of a bar called Knuckleheads, Ares glanced down at Charles. Grinning like an idiot, Charles finished his cigarillo, flicking it off to the side. Rumbling, Ares gave him a soft nod before pushing open the doors, smoke immediately flowing out into the clear air of the strip, and stepped inside. He led Charles over to the bar where a burly man with a buzz cut watched them, the sneer on his face tugging at the scar on his stubbled chin. The bartender's posture shifted into something almost defensive as they got closer, and Charles let out a snort.

"I think you might be lost," the man said, but Ares just moved closer to the bar. His eyes narrowed as Ares reached into the pocket of his jacket only to widen a little when Ares pulled out a credit chit.

"Then I guess I should go elsewhere," Ares said around his cigarette, leaning closer to the bar. He set the chit down, keeping it pinned to the surface of the bar with a talon. "Somewhere more interested in the amount of credits I'm willing to dish out for the expensive dextro stock."

Opening his mouth, the bartender started to say something, "We don't—"

"You do," Ares interrupted, jerking his chin toward the bar behind the man. "I'm not blind. Either you use Equitade to drug your customers …" He let out a low, considering hum. "… or you like to charge more than that cheap fucking beer is worth. So, what would you rather I do? Pay your insane prices or go to another bar with these credits?"

The man curled his lip and glanced at Charles, giving him a once over as his gaze flicked back and forth between Charles and Ares, clearly trying to figure out if they were together. Charles smirked, moving closer to Ares' side and raised an eyebrow. The muscle along the bartender's jaw twitched, but he kept his gaze on Charles.

After a moment, the man's lips part, but it was a second later before he finally asked, "You know this guy, kid?"

"I do. He's mine. And trust me, big guy like this, he can put away a lot of alcohol." Charles turned his hands out and shrugged. "Why pass up the credits?"

Glancing between the two of them again, the bartender scowled before letting out a deep, irritated breath. "Alright. Fine." He turned his gaze back to Charles despite keeping his head angled at Ares. "You want something, too?"

After a quick scan of the shelves, Charles nodded. "Mount Milgrom."

The man huffed a breath, nostrils flaring as he spun on his heel and stomped to the back counter. He pulled down the bottle of Mount Milgrom, a tumbler, and a bottle of the beer Ares' talked about. Bringing it all back over to the bar, he nearly tossed the bottle at Ares as he handed it over. Charles' eyebrow twitched, kind of wanting to reach across the bar and slap the man in the back of his head. The bartender poured Charles' glass then picked it up, looking as if he meant to give Charles the same treatment.

Ares' snatched the man's wrist. "Spill that because you're being pissy, and I'm not paying for it," he said with a low growl, subvocals heavy with threat.

Despite his free hand balling into a fist, the man handed over the glass without incident when Ares let him go.

Charles grinned, and yeah, okay, maybe it was a little antagonistic when he said, "Thank you."

Jaw clenching, the bartender scooped the credit chit up from the bar and stuffed it in his dingy, apron pocket. Turning, he stormed off to deal with the other customers down the bar, who were all staring at the giant turian who'd invaded their 'safe space'. One sideways glance from Ares, and they, too, quickly snapped their attention back to their own drinks.

Looking down at the glass for a moment, Charles glanced at Ares. "Sure you want to do this here? No way they're not going to remember you if C-Sec shows up asking." He dug out his cigarillos, stuffing one between his lips as he let his gaze roam idly over the room.

Ares hummed as he drank, not looking away from the shelves of liquor behind the bar. "Trust me. Don't question when someone's teaching you a thing or two about kicking the shit out of someone purposely."

Lighting the cigarillo, Charles took a deep drag, letting the smoke flow out of his nostrils before saying, "I do trust you. Questioning is a part of the learning process." He picked up the glass, taking a swallow before setting it back down. "If I'm not asking questions, I'm probably not paying attention." He smirked, watching Ares' reflection in the mirror behind the shelves as he took another drag.

Ares rumbled, a hint of amusement coloring his subvocals. Turning on the stool, he put his back against the bar and took in the rest of the place, but he didn't seem to be looking for anything in particular. "I guess that's a human thing." After taking another drink, he nudged Charles with his bottle, jerking his chin toward one of the vidscreens mounted on the wall. "Follow me. I want to get a better view."

Nodding, Charles stuck his cigarillo between his lips and left it there as he picked up his glass. Ares stood and walked over to one of the tall, rounded tables over by where a few men gathered around pool tables. Putting his back to the players, he leaned against the table, gaze on the vidscreen. Charles stood behind the table, putting his back to a wall, leaving the pool area and the rest of the bar open for him to watch with ease while keeping him close to Ares.

He took a drink from the tumbler before setting it on the table but kept his hand wrapped around the glass, figuring he could always smash it into someone's skull if he needed to. Taking a drag from his cigarillo, he watched the hockey game on the vidscreen for a moment before letting his gaze roam again. He spotted Brandon playing pool at one of the tables closest to them.

The man laughed at something one of his friends said before taking a drink and setting his glass down on a table and taking his turn. Charles slid his gaze to another pool table for a few seconds, watching a man and a woman as they racked the balls. If he'd gone there for any other reason, he might've considered finding a target to hustle out of credits with a few games himself. Problem with pool tables in bars, though, they were always at the damn back, making it a little harder for him to bolt for the door and run like hell when shit went sideways.

Glancing back at Brandon's table, he watched as one of the guys sunk three stripes in a row before scratching the cue. The man didn't move away from the table, though, staying hunched over, hands tightening around his pool stick. Charles trailed his gaze up the man to find him glaring, gaze flicking between Charles and Ares. Shifting between the man and the others at the table, it only took half a second to realize all of them were doing the same, including Brandon.

Without really giving any thought as to whether or not it was wise, Charles caught Brandon's eye, giving him a snide look as he raised his eyebrow and took a drag from his cigarillo. He blew the smoke back out in their direction, holding the man's gaze before glancing at the other three, making it clear Charles thought they could all go fuck themselves. Maybe there was a reason Charles wasn't so good at making friends.

Ares rumbled, turning to put his back to the wall, half blocking the men from Charles' sight. He kept his gaze on the vidscreen and said, "Pay attention to the game."

Charles grumbled, turning his attention back to the game and took another drink of his whiskey. He watched as the hockey players slammed themselves together against the barrier, creating a tangled mass of limbs, and he was already bored. Sports really weren't his thing. He liked car racing, though, and MMA fights. Not that he needed to justify his preferences, he reminded himself, even if his father did use his lack of interests in sports as another means to challenge Charles' masculinity.

Keeping his voice low, Ares glanced down at Charles. "You look too out of place glaring at people, especially our target. Get your mind on something else. Engage me. Teach me about whatever the fuck this human sport is."

Charles didn't care how petty he sounded when he said, "They glared at me first." He didn't think it made him look at all out of place, that kind of shit was basic as fuck in human bars, but he wouldn't argue the point. Later it wouldn't look good for him to have paid too much attention to a dead guy, and he did stand out drinking with an enormous turian in a human bar. He narrowed his eyes at the vidscreen. "I don't know, it's hockey. They skate around on ice and beat the shit out of each other while trying to get the puck in the goal."

"Pick a team," Ares said quickly, not looking away from the screen.

Taking a second to glance at the team names in the background, Charles said, "The Mars Effect."

Stupid fucking name.

"Then act like you like them." Ares put the cigarette in his mouth and shouted, sounding upset when the team's shot for the goal was deflected.

Charles' mood automatically shifted, and he had to hide his laughter from Ares by taking another drink. He watched the game for a few seconds, waiting for something to happen he recognized as a bad call before furrowing his brow and glancing at Ares, throwing his hand out toward the vidscreen. "Oh, come on! Did you see that shit? His skates were over the line!"

A moment later, Ares let out a long breath, shaking his head and speaking loud enough to play the part when he said, "Roderick is going to keep missing that pass unless he changes his fucking strategy." He took a drink from his beer before stamping out his cigarette, but instead of leaving the butt in the tray, he put it on the table between the two of them and lit another.

"It doesn't really matter if the linesmen can't even make the right fucking calls." He took a drag from his cigarillo as he glanced at Ares. "Should've called for a face-off on Stevens."

He turned his attention back to the screen, they were already well into the last quarter of the game, and the score was close. The Mars Effect was in the lead, but just barely. He and Ares kept watching, occasionally finding something to complain about or cheer over. Charles noticed a couple of times that Ares' was tearing through his pack of smokes, and the pile of butts on the table between them kept growing. He knew better than to ask questions just then, but he sure was curious to know why the hell Ares was collecting them. When at last the clock on the game was almost out, the opposing team scored a goal, winning the game.

"Aw, come on! Fucking Lunar pieces of shits," Ares shouted, growling as he rammed his cigarette in the ashtray, tucking the butt up into his palm. "Let's get the fuck out of this overpriced shithole." Finishing off his beer, he slammed the bottle down on the table.

"There'll be another game on …." Charles added a little grumble to his words as if he gave a shit, but he downed the rest of his drink and finished off his cigarillo.

Growling, Ares jerked his head toward the exit. Charles frowned, doing his best to seem irritated and being asked to leave before he was ready, but he pushed away from the table as Ares scooped the pile of cigarette butts into his hand. He headed for the door, fighting the urge to look back and watch Ares as he went. Back out on the strip, Ares lit a fresh cigarette, leading Charles away at a slow, casual pace.

"What'd you do with the cigarette butts?" Charles asked, glancing up at Ares.

"Dropped them in his glass." Shrugging, Ares rumbled around his cigarette. "That was the most boring human sport I've ever seen."

Charles snorted, the simplicity of it amusing him greatly. "Remind me to introduce you to golf."

Ares hummed around his cigarette. "I'd rather—"

"Hey! Prick!"

Ares let out a soft, satisfied purr, and Charles grinned. They both turned around, confused looks on their faces. Brandon stormed down the walk toward them, fists balled at his sides, lips pulled back in a snarl.

"I fucking knew it!" When he approached, he shoved Ares, but despite his size, he only managed to move Ares back a step. "You fucking piece of shit, skull-faced fuck. You think it's funny?!"

Charles clenched his jaw at the racist bullshit, already looking forward to hearing the man scream in agony. The muscles between his shoulder blades tensed, making him want to roll his shoulders and stretch. He didn't though, instead, he just watched, waiting for the moment Ares finished playing with his prey and made the kill.

"I don't know what you're talking—"

Brandon threw a fist, punching Ares hard enough to make him drop his cigarette. Anger flared white hot in the back of Charles' mind, his hands curling into fists, but he sucked in a shallow breath, reminding himself that he needed to keep his shit together. Ares was more than capable of taking care of himself, and they weren't there for Charles' sake. It wasn't his beast they'd come to sate.

Growling, Ares flicked a mandible. "I'll tell you to walk away once."

"Oh, please don't walk away." Charles stared at the guy, feeling a calm slide over his face despite the fury raging in his mind. Maybe because of it.

"You want to start shit, then you better be ready to fucking face me." Brandon glanced at Charles, sneering. "And you better keep your fucking mouth shut or I'll make you watch while I make your boyfriend—"

The words 'make you watch' were just a little bit more than Charles could take, and something inside of him snapped. His fist shot out, punching the man square in the nose. Brandon's head rocked back with the impact, and he stumbled back a step. A second later, though, he let out a growl and charged at Charles.

Ares growled, slamming his hand against the man's face, closing his fingers around his skull and dragging him off into the alley. Charles glanced up and down the street, making sure no one was paying any attention before stepping in after them, leaning against the wall just inside the mouth of the alley. Ares tossed Brandon to the grimy filth, stalking toward him as the man rolled back to his feet, taking a swing at Ares. Moving into the punch seemed to lessen the blow before Ares rammed his knee into Brandon's stomach, forcing a loud grunt from the man.

Surprise and pain flashed over Brandon's face, and in that split second, Ares wrapped his hand around the man's throat and spun, slamming Brandon into the wall. Pulling him back, Ares slammed him into the wall again, and Brandon's head cracked against the hard surface. Charles stepped back enough to glance up and down the strip again before lighting a cigarillo, savoring the tingle the cloves left behind on his tongue and in his throat as much as he did the violence unfolding in front of him.

Brandon dug his fingers into Ares' hand, trying to pry him off, but Ares kneed him again. The man grunted, coughing before hawking a red-tinged, glob of spit at Ares. Growling, Ares looked down at the spit on his sleeve. Rearing back, he headbutted Brandon, clearly dazing the man, and bringing a smile to Charles' face.

"Fight me," Ares demanded, his voice a deep rumble as he backed up and threw the man to the ground. "Fight me like you're fighting for your life."

Pulling himself to his feet, Brandon laughed, the sound broken by coughing. He took a single step as if to steady himself before charging, shoulder angled toward Ares' torso. Ares stepped to the side, slapping his hand down on the man's back to shove him, using his own momentum to propel him forward and throw him off balance. Ares followed, grabbing the man by the back of the neck, lifting him up to smash his face against the wall.

Charles heard a snap, and Brandon let out a growl, blood pouring down the man's face. Charles swallowed, the sight stirring the monster inside of him, and it let out a purr he felt vibrating throughout his entire body. Heat coursed through his veins, and he licked his lips, suddenly desperate to hear the man scream. Ares pulled Brandon's head back, smashing his face against the wall again, but Brandon planted his palms against the wall and pushed back, limiting the impact. Getting his feet more firmly under him, Brandon shoved back against Ares, but Ares turned with him, pulling Brandon into the momentum of the movement and tossing him to the ground again.

"You're not very good at this," Ares said, voice thick as he smirked.

Hearing footsteps rushing toward them, Charles backed up enough to look. He barely had a chance to register the man barreling down the street before the guy reared back and something flew through the air, smashing into Charles' head before shattering against the ground. Stunned, Charles' vision went black for a second, and he stumbled back, bringing his hand to his head. The guy slammed into him, ramming him back against the wall, skull colliding with a loud crack as the air ripped out of his lungs. He swung blindly, feeling his hand connect, but it didn't even give the man pause before a fist slammed into his cheek, cracking his head back against the wall again.

A primal snarl filled the air, and suddenly the man was knocked away from Charles, leaving him to crumple to the ground. Head spinning, he tried to focus, catching sight of Ares pinning the man who attacked him against the wall by his throat. Baring his teeth, Ares sunk his talons in and slid the man up the wall, feet leaving the ground. The man struggled, kicking wildly, trying to pry Ares' hand away, but Ares only snarled, subvocals vicious and filled with malice.

Ares looked down at Charles, mandibles fluttering, as Charles pulled himself to his feet, swaying and holding onto the wall for support. Glancing around, he spotted Brandon laying on the ground, neck bent at an unnatural angle, eyes lifeless as they stared back at him. He pressed his hand to his head pulling it away bloody, still struggling to make his mind focus.

"Fucker threw a beer bottle at me." He glanced back down the street before looking at the man pinned against the wall, dazed and confused.

Using his free hand to hold the man in place, an almost frantic growl tore through Ares, filling the air before he sunk his talons in further. Blood flowed down the man's throat, a gurgling hiss escaping him just before Ares ripped his throat out. Growl still rumbling through him, chest heaving, Ares took a second to watch the man bleed, drowning in his own blood before letting the body drop. He moved to Charles, his gaze just as antsy as his growl. He hummed, but Charles barely made the sound out over the constant rumbling Ares didn't seem to be able to stop. Taking his chin in hand, Ares tilted his face up to look him over.

Mandibles quivering, he released Charles. "Come on. We need to leave."

"Yeah …." He followed after Ares, keeping his palm pressed to the wound in his forehead, trying to keep the blood inside and not on the ground.

Ares stopped behind a building next to a skycar lot. "Start a car," he said, stripping off his jacket. "There should be an incinerator behind one of these buildings. I checked the blueprints for the district, it should be …" He glanced around, jacket in his hand, and nodded to the left. "… a few buildings down."

Scanning the skycars until he spotted a C-111 Skyline Shuttle, Charles pulled up his hood as he moved to the familiar model and lowered himself to his back, careful to keep his head off the ground, knowing he had a cut on the back of his head, too. Reaching beneath the vehicle and up into the undercarriage, his fingers shook as he sorted through the wires, tracing the path up to the junction box to make sure he had the right ones before yanking them free. Head spinning a little, he pushed himself back up from the ground and opened his omni-tool, hacking through the locks on the door. Climbing inside, he started the vehicle before glancing over, watching Ares open the passenger's side door and sit down, torso completely bare without his jacket.

Lifting the Skyline into the air, Charles headed them off toward the incinerators. "Sorry," he muttered, glancing at Ares. "Guess that didn't really work out the way you wanted."

Ares hummed and flicked his mandibles once. "Don't apologize. I failed to anticipate it. I should have expected it." He growled and tightened his fist. "I was sloppy."

Charles furrowed his brow a little, which made the blood start flowing a little heavier from the cut up near his hairline. He winced and made himself relax, turning his attention back out the windshield. "You weren't sloppy, I was right there. I should've been paying better attention instead of watching you. I figured there was a chance one of his friends would show up … just didn't expect him to throw a fucking beer bottle at me." He watched Ares out of his peripherals.

Ares didn't answer or look at Charles, leaning his head back against the seat as best as his crest allowed and rumbled.

Charles licked his lips, blinking a few times to better focus on his driving. Last thing they needed was for him to crash the damn skycar. "I'll be alright. And, hey, you got to kill two dickheads tonight."

"That's not the point. I let myself become distracted enough that I wasn't completely aware of the situation." Ares' growled, dragging Charles' gaze back to him, and he finally looked at Charles. "I shouldn't have to put my safety on you when you're there to, what did you say, learn?"

Fighting the urge to huff and roll his eyes, Charles looked out the window and said, "Mmm. How about instead of hating on yourself for not being perfect for a few seconds, you just be happy that you had someone there to watch your back?" He glanced at Ares again, raising an eyebrow. "Someone you trust. Next time, we'll think it through better."

Lowering the Skyline outside of the incinerators, Charles brought it to a stop and focused his attention on Ares. The turian just looked at him a moment longer before getting out and throwing his jacket into the incinerator. When he returned, he gave Charles a nod to go ahead but didn't speak.

Charles sighed, taking off again. "We can't go back to the hotel like this, so home?"

"Yes," Ares said, voice utterly lacking inflection. "We can change there."

Charles turned the skycar toward Zakera Ward, letting the silence sit between them as he chewed on the inside of his lip. "So … that obviously wasn't the right thing to say. And now you're tense all over again. I should've just let you go by yourself. You would've done it all different if I wasn't with you."

"Stop," Ares said.

Confused, thinking Ares meant for him to stop the car, Charles furrowed his brow again. "What?"

"Just …." Ares took a deep breath as he stared out the windshield. "Just shut up. Stop laying blame on yourself."

Charles snorted softly, wanting to say the same damn thing to Ares, but he kept it to himself, driving in silence the rest of the way. When he lowered the skycar outside of his apartment, Ares climbed out before it'd even come to a complete stop, heading straight for the building. Charles sat there a moment, rubbing the back of his hand and wrist over the uninjured side of his forehead as he watched Ares walk away, feeling emotionally drained as much as he was physically.

Ares looked around, stopping about halfway to the apartment, seeming to realize Charles wasn't with him. His gaze moved along the ground until he found Charles still sitting in the Skyline. Taking a deep breath, Charles rubbed the back of his hand over his face again and climbed out of the skycar, slapping a stoic look on his face, and caught up with Ares.

They entered the building together in silence, taking the elevator up. Ares opened the apartment door and stepped inside, kicking off his boots before heading straight for the bathroom. Charles just stood there a second, feeling confused and uneasy by the tension left lingering in the air around him. He made his way into the kitchen, turning on the water, and started washing the blood from his hands and face.

I fucking ruined it. Ruin everything. God, I can't believe how fucking stupid I—

A hand landed on his shoulder, tugging at him. Charles glanced up, wiping water from his eyes, finding Ares right behind him. Ares tugged again, so he shut off the water and turned around.

Mandibles twitching, a tube of Medi-gel in his hand, Ares said, "Be still."

He nudged Charles back against the counter and opened the Medi-gel. Squeezing some out on Charles' forehead, he dropped the tube back on the counter before using his finger to gently smooth the Medi-gel out over the gash and dab it on the cuts and scrapes spotting Charles' face. His mandibles flicked as he worked, gaze staying focused on his task.

Despite himself, Charles smiled, relaxing back against the counter and watching Ares' face as he tended to him. "It's not that bad, really."

Ares growled softly. "Shut up."

Charles huffed, averting his gaze and crossing his arms. Sometimes … sometimes Ares really had a way of making him feel like complete shit, like nothing he might possibly have to say mattered. Like he was nothing but a stupid, misbehaving child, and Charles hated it. It stung. But still, he loved the grumpy ass turian. When Ares finished with the front, Charles wordlessly turned around, letting him get a look at the smaller cut on the back of his head. After tending to the last of Charles' wounds, Ares stepped away, wordlessly tossing the tube on the breakfast bar before disappearing down the hall.

Letting out a shuddering sigh, Charles pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. He finished washing up as much of the blood as he could in the kitchen, hearing the shower start as he picked up the Medi-gel. Making his way down the hall, he stepped into the bedroom, pulling off his hoodie and shirt, tossing them at his hamper before going to the bathroom. He glanced over Ares as he undressed, looking for any injuries hidden by clothing. Relieved to see none, Charles tossed the Medi-gel in the cabinet then glanced in the mirror, making sure he didn't miss any blood before leaving Ares to his shower.

After going back to the bedroom to put on a clean shirt, he made his way out on the balcony and lit a cigarillo. He'd long since finished his smoke and was halfway through another by the time he heard the shower stop. A few minutes later, he glanced over his shoulder to see Ares walk into the living room, wearing one of the casual outfits Charles convinced him to buy a while back. He sat down on the couch, lighting a cigarette and staring off into space, smoking in silence.

Taking a deep breath, Charles moved into the balcony doorway and leaned against the frame. He took a drag, steadying himself a little as he asked, "Still want to go back to the hotel?"

"I got the hotel room as long as I did for you," Ares said, not looking at him.

Charles let that sit for a moment, he'd already kind of figured it out himself—or at least the thought crossed his mind as a hopeful possibility. He licked his lips, fighting to keep the tremble of uncertainty from his voice. "So … let's go enjoy it. Still think the hot tub sounds nice."

Ares shrugged and stood up. "I already used all your hot water supply, so it wouldn't hurt."

Charles gave him a half-hearted smile. "What are we doing with the skycar?"

"Leave it. Someone will find it in a few hours." Ares walked toward the bedroom, holding the cigarette in his mouth.

"Ares, it has blood in it," Charles called after him. "Mine and theirs."

Ares stopped just inside the hall and removed the cigarette, blowing out smoke. "I know a cleaner. I'll contact them."

Charles nodded. "Alright."

He moved back out onto the balcony to finish smoking before putting the butt out in the ashtray on the table. Going back in, he locked the door behind him and made his way down the hall to the bedroom. Standing in the doorway a moment, he took a slow, deep breath and crossed the floor, reaching out to put a hand on Ares' arm.

Ares' stopped with his shirt half on and looked at Charles, lifting a brow plate. Wrapping his arms around the turian, Charles leaned in, resting the uninjured side of his forehead against Ares' keel. Ares exhaled a heavy breath, and it seemed like some of the stress slipped away from both of them as he pressed his free hand against Charles' back, between his shoulder blades.