“Could you stay for a week?”
Trevor nodded, the look in his eyes kind. “As long as you need me to. We’ll keep my presence at your place to a need-to-know basis. The less people who know I’m around, the better.”
“Thank you.”
The rest of his shift went excruciatingly slowly, even with calls. Time seemed to drag weirdly while Brendan worked, Trevor a shadow he couldn’t ignore late into the night and early morning. The other man never got in his way, but Brendan was acutely aware of his presence and the weight of his attention. Everyone else in the station worked around Trevor, and by the time shift change came Monday morning, the gossip mill was running full tilt. Brendan suffered through the worriedgoodbyesandhellosfrom those coming and going, knowing he’d get worse smothering from his family later on.
“Be safe,” Erin told him before hugging him.
“Yeah,” Brendan replied. “I’ll be happy when I can go back to my boring old life.”
She waved goodbye and trotted off to the staff parking level at the public garage down the block.
“Ready?” Trevor said when Brendan finally met him at the open truck bay doors.
“For a new normal? Guess I need to be.”
“Then let’s get you home. I remember long days in the field and your job is just as hard.”
“My car is at the parking garage.”
“The MDF sent an agent to drive it home for you when I arrived earlier.” Trevor smiled apologetically, trying to take the sting out of his words. Brendan found it hard to be angry in the face of that smile, but he could at least reach irritated. “I know that’s not what you expected, and I apologize for invading your life like this. I know it’s not easy.”
“I don’t like it, but I understand why. I come from a family of cops, remember? I know all about security measures.”
Trevor hadn’t parked in the parking garage but on the street in a red zone. Brendan eyed the sports car appreciatively before getting into the front passenger seat. He hadn’t been aware enough to fully enjoy the vehicle the other night.
Brendan was a little surprised to see that Trevor opted to drive the car manually rather than engage the self-driving option on the computer. Brendan remembered him doing it the other night. Most people he knew never disengaged the self-driving option. First responders as a whole were a minority in that area. He supposed federal agents and military personnel were the same.
“I’m going to sync my contact information to your RealIdent chip,” Trevor said once they were on the road. “It’ll be encrypted and any call or message you send to me will run on a military line. Unless someone is employing military grade jammers, you’ll be able to reach me.”
Brendan wished he were getting Trevor’s contact information under better circumstances. “Okay.”
He’d changed out of his uniform and into casual clothes back at the station. Brendan pulled up the sleeve of his jacket and tapped at the bioware embedded under the skin of his left forearm. He accessed the settings for his RealIdent chip, enabling syncing. The download only took a couple of seconds and Brendan slotted Trevor into his emergency list.
“Are you planning to sleep once you get home?” Trevor asked.
“No. I try to keep normal hours on my days off.” Brendan glanced at him. “I’m going to make breakfast. Right now, that entails eating leftovers because my family kept coming over with more food than I can eat by myself. You can join me if you want.”
“I can always eat.”
Brendan vaguely recalled from history lessons that metahumans had fast metabolisms, and he was glad someone could help him demolish the food taking up space in his fridge. Usually he ate alone, but the company that morning couldn’t be beat.
6
Washington, D.C.
USA
I did not thinkthis situation through at all.
The thought was fleeting, but most of Brendan’s attention was taken up by the half-naked man standing in his kitchen on a Tuesday morning, pouring a cup of synthcaf. Trevor had recently showered but hadn’t bothered with a shirt even if he’d pulled on a pair of jeans that rode low on his hips. Brendan tracked a few water droplets sliding down that stupidly muscled back. And his arms—seriously, no one should have arms like that.
Then Trevor turned around and Brendan thought he’d go cross-eyed trying to map out the muscle definition of Trevor’s abs. A thin trail of dark hair stretched from his belly button down his stomach, disappearing beneath his jeans. There wasn’t an ounce of wasted fat on his body and Brendan couldn’t decide if he wanted to get his hands or mouth on Trevor first.
“Uh—what?” Brendan said, belatedly realizing Trevor had spoken but he didn’t know what the other man had said.
A faint smirk curved Trevor’s mouth before he took a sip of synthcaf. “I said you’re up early.”
