What are we even…? “Why would Elliot know about werewolves?”
“Good question, Matt. If he doesn't know about werewolves, why didn't he react when he saw you shift at your Christmas party?”
“He didn't see me shift. We had an agent confirm, remember?” I’m so confused right now.
“I saw him, and he was looking right at you.”
I still. “Why didn't you tell anyone?”
“I wasn’t sure,” he says, looking guilty. “I've been following him. Kinda.”
“What are you up to, Nick?”
“The little human has a pretty normal life. He works long hours. Has a really long list of loyal customers,” Nick says, looking impressed while my eyes grow wider. What’s this dumbass up to? “But then there are days when he disappears. I couldn't track him for an entire week.”
“Why are you tracking him?” I’m a little angry but more curious. C’mon, Nick’s been stalking someone for six months, it’skinda exciting. And I’m pretty sure he won’t hurt the human.
Nick waves me off. “Anyway, I thought I’d ask if Oliver mentioned anything.”
“No, he hasn't. You can ask him, you know.”
“I didn't want to raise suspicion before I knew anything. I will look into him a little longer. You know, make the Bureau’s job easy,” he adds, suddenly realizing he sounds sketchy as shit.
“Or maybe you can just follow protocol and report him now? We have a dedicated team just for this. You know that, right?”
Nick straightens. “We work for a secret agency, Matt. We can have little secrets of our own." He gives me the ‘you can’t tell on me’ look.
I raise my hands placatingly. “Okay! Just promise me you won't do anything to him. Oliver really likes him.”
Nick laughs. “Wow. Your concern for a human's life is really tear-jerking.”
Shit, that did sound wrong, didn’t it? “I meant, he’s a nice guy, so don't do anything to him,” I correct.
“You're getting warmer,” Nick teases.
I furrow my brows. “You shouldn't hurt people?”
“Ding ding ding!” Nick says. “And I’m not going to hurt him. I’m just…curious?”
“All right. I won't say anything.” I surrender. “But make sure you do if you find anything or when you get bored. Whichever comes first.”
“Yeah, yeah. Don't you have to go warn your paramour?”
“Oh, fuck!” I almost run out of the cafe. “Take care of the bill,” I throw over my shoulder.
“Asshole,” he whispers, but I hear him.
I rush to our apartment. I moved into Oliver's, even thoughI lived in mine longer. It’s an argument I lost fair and square, so we’re not going to talk about it.
From Oliver's even breathing, I realize he’s still sleeping, and sigh in relief. I walk to the kitchen, plate the croissant I got him, and switch on the coffee machine. When it’s ready, I take everything to the room.
I place the plate and mug on the side table and slowly climb over Oliver's sleep-soft, warm body. I kiss his forehead and his eyes, his skin warm against my lips. His breathing is the only sound in the room.
He blinks when I kiss his cheek. “This is a nice way to wake up.” He wraps his hands around my neck.
“Maybe for you, your breath stinks.” I crinkle my nose dramatically.
“Fuck you,” he says without any heat. ”Do I smell coffee?” He pushes me away and leans against the bedframe.
