“Ah, right on time.” He gestured at some papers on the bed. “My discharge papers.” He jumped on the floor, swaying a bit. “Just pick them up and let’s go.”
You could carry them yourself, you fuck.“Of course.”
He walked there and picked up the papers, turning, blinking at Spencer already at the door, so he hurried there, and held the door for him.
Spencer turned his head back with that mocking smile. “I can open a door.”
“That may be so, but I’m in charge of your life, and if I think I need to hold the door for you, I will.”
“Fuck… how elaborate.”
Chuckling, he swayed down the corridor and Duncan bit his tongue not to tell him to change into clothes from his pyjamas.Fuck.
He followed that swaying form, his lilting gait. He was tall, but not as tall as Duncan, and maybe there was more meat on those bones from what he could see in that bed.Maybe.Hard to tell, hidden in those large clothes.
Duncan opened the door for him, and led him to the car, opening the door too. Spencer slid in and kicked his shoes off, curling up on the seat.
“Let’s go home. I’m fed up and need a drink.”
This early?“Right away.” He closed the door, and sat in, looking back in the mirror, right into those defiant eyes. “Buckle up, please.”
“I never buckle up.” He had raised his voice, his eyes blazing. “Shut the divider and your fucking mouth too!”
Duncan’s hands stayed on the steering wheel, but his eyes never left Spencer’s. “You buckle up or we’ll stay here until you do.”
“You have to obey me! I’m your boss!”
“No. Your father is, technically. And you buckle up, or we can both sleep here because I’m not moving until you’re safe. I also don’t want your knees in my spine if I have to break hard, or somebody runs into our back.”
Spencer chuckled. “Fuck you… I could ask Dad to fire your ass as soon as we get home.”
“Yes, why not. Good riddance.”
Their eyes, blazing, but Spencer took the belt and slowly pulled it across his chest, clipping it closed. “Happy?”
“Yes. Thank you.”
“Now, pull that divider up. I don’t want to look at your fucking face.”
Duncan pushed the button and that black glass slid into place. Spencer’s voice came through the interphone.
“Stop for coffee at a Starbucks. I need a triple latte with extra whipping cream and chocolate drizzle. There’s a card in the glove box.”
Duncan fished it out and started the car, pulling the nearest Starbucks up on the GPS. One on the way home. Cursing inwardly, he pulled out and drove carefully, trying not to think what Spencer was doing in the back, hoping he had stayed buckled in.
Once the coffee bought, he lowered the divider and handed it to him.
Spencer sipped at it. “Oh, heaven… it’s missing a dash of whiskey but this will have to do.” He glanced at Duncan’s eyes in the mirror. “Did you get the grand tour?”
“Yes.”
“And? You haven’t run away?” His lips curled up and he scooped a large portion of whipped cream in his mouth. It lingered on his lips so he licked at them.
Duncan swallowed. “No. You’re a job. And probably not the toughest one I had.”
Spencer looked at him. “Oh, don’t bet on that.” He flicked his hand at him. “Up, up… they don’t pay me to watch your face all day.” Laughing softly.
Duncan pulled the divider up, driving away, his jaw clenched.Motherfucker…
