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Kai placed down a plate in front of Jackson. "Eat."

"My head hurts, and I'm not sure I'm—"

Jackson was interrupted when Kai shoved one half of the toasted cheese sandwich into his open mouth. The Campbell quickly held it to prevent it from falling into his lap and getting crumbs and grease all over his clothes. It was a little hard trying to keep his hands still and focus on the moment at the same time. He let out a muffled cough, finally taking a decent sized bite and chewed it without the urge to spit it out. He supposed the difference was that Kai was a better cook, and also that he was sitting adjacent to him at the kitchen table, with an expression that looked like he was going to gut him like a fish if Jackson dared to decline the food. Kai might've called him brave but he was nowhere near brave enough to face the Parker like that. He wasn't stupid.

Jo walked into the kitchen, catching Jackson's attention as he took another bite. She was dressed for practicing with him, wearing track pants and a tank top, something that the witch could not say the same about himself. To be fair, he greatly valued style over smartness. He figured Kai would let him wear something of his to use. The thought almost made him smile. Kai was wearing his clothes and it made him look like a snobbish Harvard student met the world of Gothic romance literature, and Jackson wearing Kai's clothes made him look like Tina Bell's long lost grunge relative. 

"Jo, please tell him not to look like he's going to use my tongue as fish bait," Jackson said, with a smile that the siphoner didn't reciprocate. "I'm eating. I'm fine."

"Stop whining, it's not cute," Kai didn't find Jackson amusing by the way he was looking daggers at him.

"Hell would freeze over first. I'm always cute."

In the middle of adding a squeeze of lemon into her cold glass of water, she glanced up at them, mildly surprised at the sight. "You got him to eat? Lucky you."

Kai assessed her with an uninterested look, like he wanted to ignore her but his ego just couldn't help making him open his mouth. "What are you talking about?"

"You can't tell?" Josette flickered between the two, genuinely confused by Kai's lack of awareness. "Look at him. No appetite, tremors, easily anxious. Probably has a headache. He's going through alcohol withdrawal syndrome."

Jackson winced, trying not to draw attention to himself, and took a bigger bite of the roasted cheese sandwich in hopes that it would soften the brunet's reaction. It didn't. Kai turned his focus on Jackson with a sudden shift to his mood that it nearly gave the Campbell whiplash glancing at him and then elsewhere. He didn't like the way Kai's jaw was set hard, his lips twitching and his dead eyes glinting with a deep desire to shake the bloody batteries out of Jackson.

"You're a fucking idiot," Kai growled, hitting Jackson's left arm. "What the hell is wrong with you? Seriously?"

Jackson's arm throbbed with pain, more so than the dull ache in his temples. He went to open his mouth to speak, but the siphoner beat him to the punch. "Don't answer, you'll say something even more moronic. You could be hallucinating or having a seizure right now. You could be fucking dead."

"Symptoms vary from volume and time. I'm not a heavy drinker, nor have I been drinking long enough to warrant death so soon," The warlock mumbled.

"Oh, thank fucking God you're not a heavy drinker," The sarcasm in Kai's voice was a razor blade that made shallow lacerations to Jackson's skin, making him grimace. "Could've been something serious. It's a good thing we're equipped to deal with a full blown fever, or delusions, or hallucinations, or a high blood pressure that puts strain on your God damn heart."

"Kai, will you please just shut the fuck up?" Jackson snapped, dropping the half eaten sandwich onto the plate. "It won't come to that. I might throw up - no, I will throw up - later and I won't be able to sleep very well, or at all. It may look like I'm getting a little worse but that's what happens in the first couple of days. I'm fortunate to have mild symptoms, so I usually just..."

"Just...?"

"Distract myself. With people."

Kai looked confused by Jackson's words, but it only lasted a few moments. "That's why you had sex with me. Huh."

"Don't take this the wrong way," Jackson said, quietly. "But I would've never looked your way if I wasn't the person that I am."

The Parker studied him with such a flat expression on his face that Jackson tried to place a hand on Kai's wrist, but the siphoner slapped his hand away. He pulled off the silver ring on his index finger and tossed it onto the kitchen table, next to Jackson's plate, like he was throwing a wedding ring at him. He got up, chair screeching on the wooden floor from the sudden movement, and marched out the kitchen and to the left, most likely outside or in the living room with the bay window. The Campbell picked up the ring and reluctantly fitted it on one of his fingers.

"I should've just kept my mouth shut," Jo spoke, wide eyed. "But you? You touched a nerve."

"I did. I don't like being a wanker, but he needed to hear it," The warlock picked up the half eaten toasted cheese sandwich and took a bigger bite. "I'll talk to him after I eat this. He'd kill me if I didn't."

"I could wait ten minutes, if that would help?" Josette lifted the glass to her lips. "A pissed Kai is the worst Kai. You should've seen him in '84, he was so pissy when that Stephen King movie came out and there was this idiot named Malachai in it."

"Gathered that much," Jackson said, his mouth half full. "No matter. I'm dashing and charming and I get things my way if I push back hard enough - debonair should be my middle name." 

She quirked a brow, clearly unconvinced by his words. "Well, you and Kai both have an ego. Maybe you two deserve each other."

"Rude."

"Just being as honest as you were to him," The Parker wiped the water that dribbled down her chin with the back of her hand. "Harsh, by the way."

The Campbell stared at the last bite. He was surprised there wasn't that familiar lump in his throat that alerted him to rush to the nearest bathroom. "But not wrong. You know what kind of person Kai is. He's intense; messianic, even. It's a constant push and pull— a fluctuation between euphoria and an utter wretchedness, and I can't tell which one I like more."

Josette looked concerned. "Have you ever been to rehab?"

"I went to those addiction recovery sessions," He crammed the last bite into his mouth. "Bea went with me. It was alright for about twenty minutes until an old lady stood up and started preaching the word of God to us. Said that we would go to Hell if we didn't repent. Never left so fast." He gestured to the fruit bowl near her. "You mind tossing me that orange?"

She pushed the apple out of the way to grab the orange from the fruit bowl, throwing it in his direction. He caught it and dug his nail into the skin, peeling off the ring in long strips as he got to his feet. The witch exited the kitchen and made his way down the hall and outside, glancing up to spot Kai sitting on one of the armchairs to his right. 

Well, sitting was a generous term to describe the way the Parker sat with one shoe on the cushion and the other kicking idly at one of the armchair legs. Uncultured. Kai noticed him almost immediately and rolled his eyes, before glancing away. His mood didn't deter Jackson in the slightest. He threw the orange peel into the bush - perfect for compost - and sat down on the armchair next to the Parker. The Campbell split his orange in half, five carpels each, and offered the other half to the siphoner.

"Take it," Jackson's voice was soft, trying to ignore the sticky liquid oozing down his hand from peeling the orange. 

Kai's gaze shifted back to him, then down at his hand. The annoyed look on his face faded, replaced by a more wary expression. It softened his face considerably, except for the furrowed brows, and the line between them. Interestingly enough, his left hand reached out and took the halved orange from him. When Jackson leaned towards him, his entire demeanour swiftly shifted. He grabbed a fistful of the witch's shirt, twisting the material and pulling him in harshly. 

"If you leave me like my predecessor did, I'll fucking kill you," Kai hissed. "I could snap your neck right here if I wanted to."

His voice came out a little breathless. "You could, but then it would render your begging for my permanence obsolete. A pity that would be, love"

"Jack," A hint of warning.

Jackson paid no mind, leaning further so that their noses brushed against each other. "Sound better when you're moaning it."

He didn't let Kai counter with anything back when he kissed him. The siphoner's lips parted with a soft exhale, letting the Campbell deepen the kiss, and he could feel Kai's hold in his shirt loosen a little. Jackson would've enjoyed it a little more if his nose didn't catch such a familiar scent on Kai - Bergamot, ginger, cinnamon, leather and sandalwood.

The witch pulled away with a frown, sitting back. "That's my scent. Are you wearing my fragrance?"

"I mean, that's not the craziest thing," Kai tilted his head slightly, clearly judging Jackson's spending decisions. "Yves Saint Laurent? Seriously? Honestly, I wish I never did 'cuz then I wouldn't have known you have the scent range of a pompous dick. And how the hell were you able to afford it? Broke college student and all that."

"I do a little thing called saving my money. You should try it."

"Saving my money, he says, while buying Dante's Divine Comedy," The Parker tore off a couple carpels from the others, popping them into his mouth. "You were, like, totally obsessed with it to the point that you started trying to learn Italian so that you were able to have someone read it to you in its original language."

Jackson pulled off three segments of his orange and lifted them to Kai's mouth, letting him eat them. "It was life changing learning Italian so I could attend the live reading. Can't remember the lad's name - Professor Pazzi, I think - but he read the poems with such conviction in his voice that I was shaking with emotion. When he said vuolsi così colà dove si puote, I just about lost it."

"You were crying, weren't you?"

"And you would too, it was bloody amazing."

The siphoner let out a chuckle, lifting the rest of his orange to his lips to eat. "You're such a sap."

He shrugged. "I'm aware that I'm donnish and sentimental. I don't mind all that much, it's a sign of my - as you say - love for life."

The Campbell ate the rest of his orange, sitting with one leg resting over the other. There was always bite to Kai's words, like his idea of affection was delivered poison on a silver platter. Then again, Kai had been quite literally served poison with affection on the side, thanks to the Parker's mother. It was strange to think about, considering that he could barely conjure a single memory of his own mother. 

"I think I should write you a list of books to read," Jackson decided, aloud, without much thought. "No Russian literature, I can't stand how pretentious it is. We start with my favorite book Tender Is The Night, then we can read Dracula, and then I can complain about Joyce's Ulysses. Although to be fair, it's not so much the book as it is..."

"Because he's Irish?"

"No it's because..." Jackson winced. "I don't feel comfortable saying it, really. My mind has been permanently scarred having seen passages of Joyce's love letters to his wife. I can't read Ulysses without thinking about it - especially considering that his wife's name is my mother's name."

"If it's what I think it's about—"

"It's worse. Far worse," The Campbell shook his head in disgust. "It sullies the meaning of a love letter. It's supposed to be romantic love, with poetry and prose and the power of emotions in the mind. Sensual and shameless is fine, but depravity like his is not meant to be written down and paraded as love." 

He let out a soft sigh. "Love should feel so good, it hurts. I should look at you in awe and exclaim: spero che il tuo amore sia come una mano che stringe il mio cuore. Affonda i tuoi denti nella mia gola e io sarò tua. Strappa la pelle dalla mia carne e la mia carne dalle mie ossa."

"I am so glad I don't know what you're saying," Kai ate the rest of his orange, with a relieved look on his face. "Thank God I don't have the ability to get emotional over poetry and romance, I'd puke in my mouth."

"Au contraire, my dear - if you ever figure out that little cipher, you'd find it would be right up your alley."

Kai made a noise, which made the witch slowly realise he was snickering. "Ciphers, puzzles. You really wanna be seen as an intellectual, Jack. But intelligence comes from the mind games no one knows you're playing, until it's too late. If I didn't know any better, I'd say ciphers and puzzles is the exact kind of thing our little stalker enjoys. A schadenfreude kind."

Jackson's jaw was set, grinding his teeth together. He wasn't sure where Kai was getting at, and his first thought of what the Parker was implying didn't paint a very good picture at all. Was he suggesting that Jackson was the killer? That he had some sick-minded sadism lurking beneath the surface of his skin? Ironic; he always got that idea about Kai. The way he was willing to kill without a second thought, holding life and death in his very palms. And the worst part was that the Campbell only wanted to be next, in a metaphorical sense. 

"Are you suggesting that I'm my own stalker?" The witch asked, dryly. "That I'm a serial killer?"

"Oh, no," Kai let out another chuckle. "No, no. I think you wanna be Jack the Giant-killer. I think you want to kill whoever's stalking you."

"I bet you were bursting at the seams to make that little joke. What's next? Jack be nimble, Jack be quick, Jack jump over the psychotic prick?"

"More like, Jack and his comrades should hide before they all get gutted like that one jock kid. Unless you're planning on being a Jack o' Kent kinda person. In that case, I'd say good luck with trying to outsmart the devil - and go for the throat."

Kai flashed him a smirk and stood, walking back into the house. Jackson let out a long breath, annoyed by how right the siphoner was. He did have the urge to kill whoever was out there killing innocent people. But he didn't know what kind of evil he would be facing; what kind of evil the Ghost-face, Grim Reaper psycho was willing to commit. He had other problems to figure out too, ones that required him to be alive and unscathed. Better the devil you know than the one you don't.