He saw the anger spark in Jake's eyes before the other even had the chance to speak. He wanted more than anything to be able to give Jake the fight he wanted and for the two of them to come out of this, hands clasped on each other's shoulder, tired, bruised, bleeding, but alive. That wouldn't happen. Not today and he was starting to get the sinking suspicion that Jake knew that.

A bruised rib he could deal with. A dislocated jaw was another story. He had to break his grip on Jake's neck to block the punch. His forearm took the brunt of the damage. Fuck. He was doing this on purpose. He couldn't bite back the growl that rumbled low in his chest. His fingers found that familiar hilt quickly, out of reflex, but he didn't use it to swing. Instead he pushed his forearm against Jake's chest and attempted to buck up his hips to throw Jake off.

"Are you fucking stupid or is this just how blind you normally are?" He spat. Maybe if he got Jake angry enough he would lose his cool, but that was a really big stretch.