Weird, but Ian sounded almost worried about that.Sam struggled to turn and face Ian, nearly knocking him off the couch.He saw a slightly darker spot forming along Ian’s jaw.Was that another bruise?
Sam caressed Ian’s cheek with his thumb, just above the potential bruise.“It’s okay, I don’t care.I’m happy like this.”He kissed Ian’s nose, then gently kissed Ian’s bruised eye.It really wasn’t that dark, not like he’d expected a black eye to be.More like a charcoal-gray eye.
They lay there a long time, not really talking or making out, just being together as the room got steadily darker.Sam felt enveloped in a special Ian bubble.It made his heart ache in a happy-sad way.God I hope this lasts awhile.
Then Sam’s stomach growled.He groaned, and Ian laughed.“I’ll make us dinner.You read your book, kiddo.”He let go of Sam and rolled off the couch, catching himself on his arm, then standing up.“You staying again tonight?”
“I’d like to if you want me.”
“I want you.”
Sam stayed Sunday, but he couldn’t stay Monday.Unless Ian really, really wanted him to.
Or just really wanted him to.
In the morning, Ian stood at the bathroom sink and knotted his tie while Sam shaved.Ian was done shaving, since he had an electric razor.Sam should get an electric razor, but since he could go two days between shaves before anyone noticed, he didn’t think it was worth it.Disposable razors were a pain, though.
“I have a late meeting tonight, but I want to see you tomorrow,” Ian said.
Sam stared at Ian’s hands on the red silk of his tie.He was slowly discovering that Ian was a closet hedonist.Five-hundred-thread-count sheets and silk ties, not to mention cashmere sweaters in his drawer.
He’d only seen those accidentally.That drawer had come open almost on its own.He’d barely done more than brush past it.
Ian’s hands stopped messing with his tie.“Sam?”
“Huh?”Sam dropped his razor in the sink.He was done anyway.“What?”
“Can I see you tomorrow?”
“Of course,” he blurted.He thought about backpedaling and making it look less like a foregone conclusion, but it seemed pointless.Besides, Ian smiled at him in the mirror and kissed his cheek, then walked out of the room.
Sam rinsed the few bits of foam off his face and walked into the bedroom.He was still in boxers and a T-shirt, and Ian was shrugging on his suit jacket.“Do you have to leave soon?”he asked, as if it wasn’t obvious.
“Yep,” Ian answered absently, shoving stuff from his dresser into various pockets.
That sucked.If he had a little less on and Ian had a little more time, they could play corporate raider and houseboy.
Ian walked behind him and patted him on the butt.“C’mon, kiddo.You hurry up, and I’ll have time to drop you at campus before I go to work.We can make out in the pickup behind the English building.”
“Oh, okay,” Sam said, and dived across the bed for his backpack.
Tuesday morning, and Ian felt like he’d already put in three days at work.He’d barely had the energy to call Sam last night when he got home from his meeting, but he had.
It had been totally worth it.He may not be comfortable admitting everything he may or may not be feeling for Sam, but he could admit that talking to Sam relaxed him.He needed to be able to relax.He had a fuckton of work to do.
Most immediately, he had to chair a huge interagency roundtable meeting and navigate the tricky political waters of district boundaries, protocol overlaps, procedural clashes, and insurance payment share disputes among the fire, police, and ambulance agencies in a three-county area.
His main issue right now was convincing all these yahoos—oh, excuse him,agency representatives—that, seeing as the emergency backup radio frequencies for the first responders were transit’s primary frequencies, yes, they needed to be included in the good ol’ boys’ network.
He could talk that way about these guys; he was one.Totally all right.
Sigh.
Who in hell ever thought he’d be any good at this?He didn’t tend to suffer bullshit and posturing well, and meetings like this were nothing but.He knew from experience; he’d attended enough of them as a representative of the fire district.
Yet somehow, he actually—kinda, sorta—liked this job.He liked figuring out how to make it all run smoothly.He even sort of liked the chess-playing air of it all, figuring out what leverage applied by who to whom would get him support.This was the suckiest part, meetings with multiple parties who thought the simple desire to fuck with each other was reasonable motivation to go ahead and do so.
So why the hell was he in such a good mood?
