compelledtoprotect

Steve had heard the man coming for ages and knew who it was. He even knew, well guessed, what was wrong. When he opened the door, he caught James before the man could collapse and swung the limp body up into his arms. It was just a short walk to his room and then he had the man safe on the bed. Steve sank down next to him and sighed, running his fingers through James' hair with an exasperated look. Usually the man didn't come to him when he'd been taking drugs, not the Steve even remotely considered kicking the guy out, or giving a lecture. There had to be a good reason James had gone so overboard. The question was whether he'd get it in a timely fashion.

Since James didn't seem in any hurry to speak, Steve took a moment to text Setsuna, taking care of that potential issue before it became one. He didn't like refusing his little brother bed space, but there was no way in hell James would agree to such a thing, even if he'd wanted to have them in the same room. Which he didn't. No, they could meet another day, when James was sober, and when he'd already explained to Setsuna who and what James was to him. Sometime far in the future probably . . . When the room continued to stay silent, he sighed and stroked the man's flushed cheek.

"James. What the hell have you been doing? You reek of alcohol, and I can smell at least five different drugs. What happened?"