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“That if I want to be playing in February, I don’t get to spend December proving anything. Halsey gets more starts. Two a week through the road swing.”

Cole switched to the other foot. “Okay.”

Ford took his arm off his eyes. “You say that like it’s easy.”

“No.” Cole’s thumb kept working. “I just don’t think you get a vote.”

Ford let it go. February could stay where it was.

Ford picked the bottle back up off the floor. “Riggs is trying to get Secret Santa going again.”

“Is that a whole thing here?”

“It’s the highlight of his December. Jonesy takes it seriously, and Riggs likes watching him come apart over a twenty-dollar limit.”

Cole pressed his thumb into Ford’s heel. “I drew Olie last year. He gave me a book about ice fishing.”

Ford turned his head to look at him. “Did you read it?”

“Twice. It’s a good book.”

Ford laughed at that. When he looked over, Cole had stopped working his foot and was watching him.

Ford propped himself up on his elbows. “What?”

“Nothing.” Cole’s hand closed around his ankle. “Come here.”

Ford went where he was pulled, up the couch on his knees and then over him. Cole took his face in both hands and kissed him.

Ford took his time, one hand braced on the arm of the couch. Cole made a sound low in his throat, and Ford caught it with his mouth before it got anywhere.

“Sorry,” Cole breathed.

“Don’t be sorry. Be quiet.”

Cole got both hands up under the back of Ford’s shirt. “Those are the same thing.”

“They are not.” Ford got a hand under Cole’s shirt and up over his ribs, and Cole’s stomach went tight under his palm. “Say one more word, and I’ll put you through the floor.”

“Do it then.”

Ford put his hand over Cole’s mouth and felt him laugh against it. He kept it there a second, watching Cole’s eyes change under him, then took it away and kissed him again.

Cole got Ford’s belt open and a hand around his cock, and Ford’s breath went out against his jaw. Cole had learned him fast. He went slow at first, thumb dragging over the head on the upstroke, until Ford’s hips started moving without his permission.

“That’s not fair,” Ford said into his neck.

“Wasn’t trying to be.”

Ford worked Cole’s jeans open one-handed. Cole was already hard, already wet at the tip, and when Ford wrapped a hand around him, Cole’s whole body went tight underneath.

They found a rhythm, close and awkward and better for it. Ford braced on a forearm with his face in Cole’s neck and Cole’s free hand spread low on his back, pulling him down flush against him. Cole’s hips came up off the cushion. Ford could feel the noise building in his chest, so he covered Cole’s mouth again, and Cole’s tongue touched his palm, and Ford nearly went right then.

Cole came first, teeth catching the edge of Ford’s hand, back arching off the couch, and Ford didn’t take his eyes off him. Then Cole’s grip stuttered and tightened, and Ford put his forehead down on Cole’s shoulder and went after him, biting into the shoulder of Cole’s shirt to stay quiet.

Neither of them moved for a while. Cole’s hand stayed low on Ford’s back, and Ford lay on top of him and felt them both breathing.

Cole got up eventually, returning from the downstairs bathroom with a warm washcloth to clean them both up. He handed Ford his beer. He sat close enough that their thighs touched and put his feet on the table next to Ford’s.