It was far later than Xander knew he should be awake, but sleep still escaped him. He'd paced, checked the stables, debated a second bath, and overall attempted to remind himself that the Order was safe and his hand would not be forced again. Those who saw him in the halls had been quiet and kept their distance. That was not unexpected; until just recently he'd been an enemy and an executioner. It was a role he'd played often as not in his own world.

Surely the Order would not expect him to continue...

The hallway was lit only by a few torches and fell into shadows between, but quarters were clearly marked, often by whoever resided within. His own just had a scrap of paper with his name. Perhaps in the coming days, Elise would see to something nicer. It wasn't something Xander would do on his own. The scrap of paper was fine, for the time being.

Of course, his wasn't the only name on the scrap of paper.

He'd not arrived alone and the Order was already pressed for space and supplies. But as he let himself in, Xander was a bit relieved to see that he wasn't the only one still awake. Camus sat in the tiny room that was less a common area or study and more a small square of space not the bedchamber. It had contained two chairs, a small table, and a set of bare rickety shelves, and the two days since they'd been freed hadn't given them much time to acquire anything beyond a change of clothing and a pitcher and basin.

Somewhere, Camus had found a book.

Camus looked up from it and gave Xander a rare smile.

"It's not very good," he said softly in his deep rumble of a voice.

"But it's a distraction," Xander replied. They needed distractions. A day or two and some quiet wouldn't free either of them from what had happened.

At least, even if they were terrible at talking about it, they had each other.

"Yes."

Leo had been offended that Xander had to both share a room and bed, but Xander had pointed out that the Order was short on space and funds, in obvious ways. Besides, Leo was sharing with both of his retainers.

It wasn't as if he hadn't shared a bed with Camus before that, though it would be difficult to ascribe any sort of romantic terms to what they had. Maybe it was distraction, maybe it was comfort. Maybe it was just what they needed, both then and now.

"I'm going to try to sleep," Xander said after a moment during which he'd pulled off his boots and placed them beside the door.

"Should I do the same?" Camus questioned.

"Yes," Xander replied. That was enough to settle that.

He noticed that Camus didn't bother marking his place in the book.

Camus's mouth was on his own a moment later, surprisingly needy even when Xander was the one guiding them through the rough doorway into the bedchamber. Camus kissed him and buried a hand in his shaggy hair even as Xander reached for the buttons of Camus's shirt.

Whatever they had, it was what they needed at the moment.

Camus's hair had gotten long as well, but it looked good on him. Camilla had offered to trim them both up a bit, but they'd both declined almost in unison. Instead she'd just fixed up a few ends and given them both a knowing little smile.

While he'd been gone, Camus had apparently bathed as well. Xander wasn't surprised; as much as it was a brief respite, the heat of the bath was at least calming. Though that calm was long gone as they worked to silently peel away each other's clothing between kisses.

Xander was the first one on the bed, half-hard and managing a little smile in Camus's direction. They had only the light of a single lantern hooked to the wall, but it was enough to see Camus and see his desire.

The bed creaked just a bit under Camus's weight but Xander forgot about it once Camus was close. Instead, he kissed Camus and touched him, finally reaching down between their bodies for the heat of Camus's hard cock.

This got Camus to moan into his mouth and Xander found his own cock reacting in kind. They were never loud during this. A few moans, a few little assuring mutters, but little more and that was certainly enough.

Camus's hands were on him as well, on his back and his ass. Their legs tangled together, and Xander had to shift so they could just move against each other for a moment.

"I got..."

Camus broke the kiss to speak, quietly, and then half-rolled back to reach for the tiny bedside table. Before Xander entirely realized, he was on his back, looking up at Camus as he uncorked whatever he'd managed.

"Please." Xander wasn't even sure he'd managed to make his plea audible but Camus had certainly heard it. Camus was between his legs, pushing them apart, fingers slick and cool and after a moment, inside.

Xander moaned and closed his eyes for long enough to let himself adjust. He hadn't expected Camus to see to this. He probably should have himself, but there was just...

This was not the time to think about the past, recent or otherwise. Not when, when he opened his eyes, Camus was stroking his own cock, slicking it with a hand pulled free. Old definitions, old arrangements, none of that mattered.

Xander groaned as he was entered, louder than Camus's own voice.

And then he nodded, catching Camus's dark gaze in the shadowy light, surely his own eyes were just as dark. Surely whatever they had didn't need to be defined at that moment, nor the next.

Camus moved and then it was just the two of them and the creaking of the bed. Each thrust echoed through Xander's body, pleasure from his toes to fingertips. His cock dripped precome on his stomach, untouched at first until Camus reached to stroke it. Xander had his hands gripping the blankets beneath him, something he hadn't even realized until he let go with one to help Camus.

Together, they moved. Thrust after thrust, until Camus closed his eyes and moved faster and harder. Xander ached for Camus's orgasm as badly as he ached for his own. With the first soft moan of Camus's release, Xander felt his own threaten and he did nothing to hold it back. He came in a rush just before Camus stilled, sure that for just a moment he'd lost himself entirely.

Then, then there was a moment where, as Camus pulled out and stared at him, Xander truly smiled. Camus echoed the smile and instead of seeing to cleaning up or commenting that they should sleep or anything else like any other time...

Camus leaned to kiss him again and Xander reached to pull him close. He tangled a hand in Camus's hair and simply kissed him, again and again.

And eventually they saw to cleaning up without too many words or trying to sort anything out. They still had time for that. There was too much for one night or one week or...

Whatever the Order intended of them...

Xander slept quietly against Camus who'd fallen into his own restful sleep.