Hunter(Zeus's Pack 5)(7)

“I thought you were straight? What happened to banging chicks, Mickey? Since when do you go after guys?”

Quinn advanced and used his elbow to crack Mickey’s nose. Tristan was at a loss of what he should do. He sang louder as he watched the two tussle. It was like a clash of the titans. The two heavily muscled bodies slammed into counters and knocked the chairs away from the table.

Quinn finally grabbed Mickey by the scruff of his collar and his waistband and shoved him at the front door. “Get the fuck out, and leave the damn key.”

Mickey reached into his pocket and pulled the door key out, throwing it at Quinn. “It’s a sorry day when you pick a fuck boy over your friend.” The guy slammed the door on his way out.

“You can stop singing now. He’s gone.” Quinn walked over and looked Tristan over. “Are you hurt? Did he hurt you, jellybean?”

Tristan shook his head, embarrassed of his childhood habit. “No, sir.”

“Come on, I have your table ready for you.” Quinn waved for Tristan to follow him, and he obediently ran behind his mate. Wow, his mate. Who would have thought that when he ran from Xavier this time that he would find his mate?

Tristan walked into the bedroom and came to a halt. In the corner was a drawing table. There was a small lamp clipped to one end and all his art supplies that Quinn had bought for him. Tristan walked over to the stool, his fingers ghosting over the table, the sketchpad, and the small cup that held his drawing utensils.

He wiped a stray tear. Swallowing a few times around the knot in his throat, he turned and stared up at Quinn. “Thank you, sir.”

“Ah, shucks, it wasn’t nothing.” Quinn chucked Tristan on the arm. “Just giving you something to call your own.”

If Quinn only knew how precious this was to him. The gesture alone gave him a thousand brownie points. He slid onto the stool and opened his sketchpad, his fingers trembling as he grabbed a pencil and forgot the world existed.

“I’ll leave you to your drawing. Come find me if you need something.”

Tristan nodded, barely registering Quinn’s words. His hands flew over the paper, his mind opening up and taking over. His drawing hand became a separate entity.

Tristan thought of his time with Xavier, the way his ex had been nice at first, like most new relationships started. And then the real Xavier surfaced, and Tristan had done everything in his power to get away. But each time he escaped, the man had found him and threatened his life if he didn’t come back. Tristan crossed his fingers and prayed he had finally gotten away permanently.

Obsession was not a good thing, not by far. It amazed him how some people latched onto something or someone and felt they had a right to dictate their lives and how they should do things. This was why he enjoyed being around Quinn. The man insisted he make his own choices, something he had forgotten how to do after only one year of being with Mr. Obsessive.

After what felt like hours, his head started bobbing. Tristan had no clue what music was floating into the bedroom. Quinn had to be playing it…and he liked it.

His upper body started rocking back and forth to the beat as he drew. Within a few minutes, Tristan was sliding off of the stool and dancing to the rhythm. He danced backwards, did the John Travolta disco moves as his feet tapped around with the music.

“I see you like it.” Quinn walked into the room and sidled next to Tristan and began to dance. “It’s Eminem rapping.”

Tristan popped his shoulders as he twirled around. “I like it, sir.” He laughed when Quinn bobbed his shoulders, his arms swaying back and forth, and his lower body began to squat down and then rose back up.

“Old school, baby.” Quinn did something funky with his arms, like an ocean wave, and Tristan tried to repeat it. His arms seemed to tangle as he tried to parrot the move.

“Watch, watch.” Tristan did a pirouette and then entwined his fingers, doing the ocean waving thingy in front of his body.

“You’re getting it, jellybean.” Quinn laughed and danced in a circle around Tristan. He ran and grabbed his hat, tossing it on his head, and then ran back over to Quinn.

“Watch my feather dance, sir.” Tristan laughed as he bobbed his head, the feather taking flight. Tristan cracked up as Quinn grabbed his straw hat and joined him in head bobbing and dancing. He couldn’t remember that last time he had this much fun.

They danced through a few songs, having a blast. Tristan ran out of the room and slid down the hall, doing a Tom Cruise move, his borrowed purple socks taking him to the end of the hallway. Quinn did some sort of slide thing down the hall, finally making it to Tristan’s side.