“I’ve notified Ben. He’ll be waiting for you.”
Dr. Benedict Winters, Unit Alpha’s appointed psychiatrist. Fun times ahead. He was just going to ask Calvin the same questions. And then Calvin would give him the same answers. An endless cycle. Not that it annoyed Calvin. He knew it was necessary in case his answers ever did change.
Calvin nodded.
“After you see Ben, take the rest of the day,” Maddock said before standing, his gaze sympathetic before he left.
Calvin gripped his bag tighter. They’d take his gun. Take it apart. Inspect it. They’d investigate. Question Sloane and Rosa. Then Calvin. He just wanted to get back to HQ, shower, change, and go home. He heard his team getting into the BearCat. Hobbs climbed in behind the steering wheel and got them moving. He didn’t even look at Calvin.
At HQ everyone went about their duties. Calvin saw Ben before heading into the male locker room, showering, and changing into his jeans, T-shirt, and sneakers. He pulled his jacket from his locker and shut it, pausing to take a long breath. He turned and ran into Hobbs. He gazed up at his partner with a frown.
“What—”
Hobbs pulled him into his embrace, refusing to let go even when Calvin pushed against him. It was impossible. He struggled momentarily. Too many feelings rushed him at once. He gasped for air as if he’d been underwater for ages, holding his breath. A few shaky breaths later, he wrapped his arms around Hobbs and held on tight. He closed his eyes, buried his face against his partner’s chest, and breathed.
Hobbs held him, running a soothing hand over his back. Calvin basked in his partner’s warmth. He knew he should pull away before he ended up trading his headache for heartache. Instead he lingered, enjoying the scent of Hobbs’s shower gel, the comforting whispers in his ear. Calvin smiled and pulled back. He gave his partner a playful poke in the belly.
“Thanks.”
Hobbs’s warm smile reached his eyes, and he put his arm around Calvin, pulling him close as they headed out of the locker room. Before leaving him, his best friend said he’d bring dinner tonight, told him to call if he needed anything, and insisted he get rest, not pull another Netflix marathon.
With a chuckle, Calvin promised. He left and was headed for the parking garage to his car when he got a text from Hobbs.
Guess who switched Ash’s sugar for salt? If you guessed someone other than Dex, you’re wrong.
Calvin laughed as he climbed into his car. He texted his friend back. Send pictures of the mayhem.
He received a selfie of Hobbs with a big dopey grin, giving him a thumbs-up. Nerd. Calvin put his phone away, popped on the radio, and drove home, a smile on his face. Today had been a rough day, but tomorrow was a new day. Besides, he had his best friend. His phone buzzed, and Calvin chuckled. He had no doubt Hobbs intended on keeping him and his mind occupied the rest of the afternoon. No matter how unpredictable his job, there was always one constant. His best friend. And maybe one day… who knew?
Prompt #23: Dex gets a cold and Sloane has to pamper him. Awwwwwwwwwww.
NEARLY DONE.
Sloane was stirring the bubbling pot of soup when a low groan caught his attention. With a frown, he turned off the stove before heading into the living room to see what the hell his partner was up to this time. He stopped by the couch and watched in amusement as Dex held his hand out toward the coffee table, his intense gaze on the TV remote.
“What are you doing?”
“Using the force to get the remote.”
“You could just lean over and pick it up,” Sloane said, trying his hardest not to laugh at Dex’s voice and the way it sounded all stuffed up. His cheeks and his nose were pink, his hair was sticking up in all directions, and one of his socks was missing. How his partner managed to always lose a sock while sleeping was beyond him.
Dex let his arm drop, and he groaned. “But it hurts.”
“Aw, poor baby.” Sloane swiped the remote up and held it just out of reach. “Is this what you want?”
“You’re not allowed to be mean to me. I’m sick.” Dex pouted.
As of yesterday, his partner was on sick leave after coming down with the flu. Well, more like Sparks had taken one look at him, seen him sneeze, and all but evacuated the building. Their lieutenant was pretty much a germaphobe. He was surprised a hazmat team hadn’t been brought in to sterilize the place. At the first sign of infection, Alpha agents were sent home so as not to infect other agents. Not prone to seasonal sniffles, Sloane decided to help his partner.
He should have known better.
Obviously Dex Flu wasn’t your run of the mill flu. It came with vast amounts of pouting, big watery puppy eyes, and very little movement, and no weapon in the Dexter J. Daley arsenal of charm went unused. Sloane had no idea when it had happened, but he suddenly found himself playing nursemaid.
“If I give you the remote, will you promise to eat your soup?”
Dex eyed him warily. “No corn?”
“No corn,” Sloane promised. “Chicken noodle soup with carrots and celery.”
“Okay.” Dex nodded, looking absolutely miserable and adorable at the same time. He sat up with a groan, and Sloane handed him the remote. He leaned in and gave the top of his head a kiss.
“I’m cold,” Dex muttered, folding his arms over his chest.
Holding back a smile, Sloane took the warm fleece blanket rolled into a ball at the other end of the couch and wrapped it around Dex. “Better?”
“Can I have my soup here?” Big blue eyes pleaded innocently.
Man, he was such a sucker. “Fine,” Sloane sighed. He went into the kitchen to pour some soup into one of Dex’s Star Wars bowls. He placed it on a tray with some fresh crusty bread, a spoon, and a glass of water. After carrying it into the living room, he found Dex sitting with his back against the armrest and his knees drawn up, his blanket pulled tight around him. “Sit straight so I can put this on your lap.”
Nope. He was not giving in to the lip. Must not give in. “I am not feeding you.”
More pouting.
Nope. Not happening. He was not about to feed soup to a thirty-three-year-old man.
“I think I have a fever,” Dex said with the most pathetic cough Sloane had ever heard.
Humoring his partner, Sloane put the tray down on the coffee table before placing his hand to Dex’s brow. He cursed under his breath. Damn it, his partner really did have a fever, and it was too soon for more medicine. Was he really going to do this?
With a sniffle, Dex smiled up at him. “It’s okay. Thank you for making me soup. You’re such a good boyfriend.”
It was a good thing Dex used his powers for good, because if he ever decided on world domination they were all screwed. Sloane was screwed.
“Shove over,” Sloane grunted.
Dex beamed at him and nudged over so Sloane could sit next to him. He could not believe he was doing this. He placed the tray on his lap, lifted a spoonful of soup, and glared at Dex as he held it out. There was a mischievous gleam in his partner’s eyes.
“It’s hot.”
Sloane arched an eyebrow at him. “That fever’s clearly made you delusional if you think I’m going to blow on it for you.”
“But you know how much I like it when you blow,” Dex said, wriggling his eyebrows.
“You little shit,” Sloane laughed. Regaining his composure, he blew on the soup but had to stop because Dex’s dorky expression was making him laugh. “Stop.”
“What?”
“You’re making a face.” Sloane tried to blow but just ended up laughing again.
“It’s just my face.”
“It’s ridiculous.”
“Be quiet and blow my soup, Sloane.”
“Fuck.” Sloane couldn’t stop laughing. It wasn’t even that funny. This whole situation was absurd. Determined not to be bested by this blond-haired menace, Sloane cleared his throat, blew on the soup, and held the spoon out to Dex. With a smile, Dex ate his soup. He moaned before swallowi
ng.
“Was it as good for you as it was for me?”
“If you plan on getting as much action as this soup once you’re better, I suggest you eat.”
Dex opened his mouth and leaned forward. It really should not have taken the man an hour and thirteen minutes to eat a bowl of soup, but somehow Dex managed it. Every spoonful was met with some kind of innuendo, and Sloane’s resolve had been tested to no end.
“I’m exhausted. That was exhausting.” Sloane pushed the tray back on the coffee table. He’d clean up later.
“And a little fun,” Dex said with a wink.
Sloane pressed his lips together and sat back on the couch. Don’t. Give him an inch and you’ll be wrapped around his little finger. He was about to tell Dex off when his partner had a coughing fit. Dex covered his mouth, his whole face going beet red and his eyes watering. Sloane was at his side, patting his back, and soon it was over.
“You okay?” he asked worriedly.
Dex nodded. “Head hurts now.”
“You should get some rest.” He made to stand when Dex grabbed his arm.
“Stay with me?”
With a smile, Sloane nodded. He kicked off his boots and helped Dex up so Sloane could lie down. Dex joined him, snuggling up close, a contented sigh escaping him. Placing a kiss on Dex’s warm brow, Sloane wrapped his arm around Dex and settled in for a nap.
“I can’t believe you fed me,” Dex said with a soft chuckle. “You’re so cute.”
“Momentary lapse of judgment. I blame the vapor rub.”
“It’s because you’re sweet on me.”
“Outrageous.” Sloane felt Dex plant a kiss on his chin.
“Whatever the reason, thank you for being here.”
“You’re welcome.” With another kiss to Dex’s head, Sloane gave him a gentle squeeze. The truth was he liked being here with Dex, taking care of him. No one had ever needed him to take care of them. He could get used to this.
Prompt #24: Would love to see some one-on-one interaction with Austen and Zach.
Here is a bonus scene from Rack & Ruin, THIRDS Book 3.
In Rack & Ruin, Austen gets hurt by a member of the Coalition after getting too close during one of his reconnaissance missions. Dex and Sloane are worried someone might try to finish the job while Austen is in hiding and hurt, so Sloane asks Agent Osmund Zachary to protect Austen. The scene was never shown in the book as it’s from Austen’s POV. So here it is.
THIS SUCKED.
Austen sat on the floor, his hand tight over his newly patched-up shoulder and a frown on his face. He felt like such an idiot, getting himself caught by that fucker cougar Therian. He never got caught. He was always faster than his opponent. He got sloppy. He’d been so desperate to get something, anything on the Coalition for Sloane that he’d gotten too close. Now here he was on painkillers in this shitty abandoned apartment, being babysat by a damn grizzly.
Agent Osmund Zachary sat cross-legged on the beat-up mattress Austen had thrown on the floor when he’d decided to use the place as a safe house. The bear Therian was all Zen and shit, like he was about to meditate. Austen narrowed his eyes. The only reason he wasn’t trying to make a break for it was because Sloane had vouched for Zachary, or “Zach,” as he apparently preferred to be called. Austen didn’t really care. He didn’t trust the guy. Then again, he didn’t really trust anyone except Sloane.
Zach remained unmoving, staring ahead. Occasionally he’d glance in Austen’s direction, and Austen would make sure Zach saw how unhappy he was about this arrangement. Normally he’d be all flirty, and Zach was pretty damn fit, but something about the guy rattled Austen, and he did not like to be rattled.
“How old are you? Thirty-seven, thirty-eight?” Austen asked, looking Zach over. He was huge, with biceps the size of fucking tree trunks. His face was filled with stubble matching his reddish brown hair in color, and his eyes were so dark they were almost black.
Zach frowned. “I’m thirty.”
Austen stared at him. “Holy shit. Really?”
“I know how old I am,” Zach grumbled, his voice a low, growly timbre.
Damn, the guy had a sexy voice. Austen held his hands up in front of him. Last thing he wanted to do was piss off a bear Therian. Dude was like two of him put together. He’d snap Austen’s spine in half without breaking a sweat. They sat there in silence, with Zach staring forward again. It was driving Austen out of his mind. There was a war going on out there. He couldn’t sit here like an asshole doing nothing.
“So um, listen, I appreciate you coming down here, but I’m good.” Austen gritted his teeth and pushed himself to his feet, overestimating the side effects of the Therian-strength painkillers Rosa had given him. His balance went to shit, and he flailed at the sudden chaos, like he was in a giant snow globe that someone had grabbed and shaken up. His heart sped up, and he gasped at the loss of control, his worst nightmare. He prepared for a painful landing, but the blow never came.
Austen stilled.
Swallowing hard, he closed his eyes for a moment because he could. Zach was holding him in those tree trunk arms of his, and all at once Austen felt like nothing could touch him. His first instinct was to flee, but seeing as how he couldn’t get his body to do something as simple as stand, he remained perfectly still, breathing in and out slowly in an attempt not to panic. No one had ever gotten this close to him, and Zach was as close as anyone could get at the moment.
Zach’s scent was pleasant. Sandalwood mixed with something else. His uniform shirt was soft, and Austen could still smell the fabric softener. It took Austen a moment to realize he was sitting on Zach’s lap, cradled close against the guy’s chest, his injured shoulder out. Austen didn’t dare open his eyes.
“If you tell anyone about this, I will Taser you in the balls.”
“Why are you so grumpy?” Zach asked, his tone innocent, like he was genuinely curious rather than put off by Austen’s abrasive behavior after the guy had saved him from kissing the gross concrete floor.
“Because I don’t like to be touched. Or babysat. Or sitting on my ass while my team is out there trying to stop a goddamn war. Because I made a stupid fucking mistake and now look at me. Hopped up on painkillers and too dizzy to fucking stand, cradled in the arms of a bear Therian like fucking Goldilocks.” And this one was just right…. Ugh, shut the fuck up, brain.
“Oh.”
“Oh? That’s all you have to say? Fucking genius.”
“I’m not stupid,” Zach replied, his tone catching Austen’s attention.
Forcing his eyes open, Austen looked up, surprised to find a hurt expression on Zach’s face. He pointed to Zach’s mouth.
“What is this? What’s this thing you’re doing with your bottom lip? Stop it.”
Zach nodded and averted his gaze with a heavy sigh.
Seriously? What the hell was going on? Wait, had he hurt Zach’s feelings? The guy was over three hundred fucking pounds, how…? He hadn’t even said anything.
“Hey, Pouty McGee, what’s going on? What’s with the face? Like I kicked your puppy or something.”
“You think I’m stupid.”
Austen opened his mouth to reply, then shut it. He studied Zach for a moment. The guy looked like one of those old Roman warriors. Thick skin, all battle cries, and capable of bringing down a small army on his own. And he was sad because he thought Austen had called him stupid?
“I don’t think you’re stupid. When did I say that?”
“You implied it,” Zach mumbled.
“I don’t know anything about you. Why would I think anything?”
Zach shrugged. “Most people do. They assume I am because I’m”—he looked down at himself, his expression troubled—“like this. I don’t like to be judged.”
“Neither do I. You think I don’t get judged? Look at me.”
Zach did. He looked Austen over from the top of his head down to his toes. Man, he hadn’t meant it literally. He tried not to squirm under that da
rk gaze.
“What about you?”
Austen frowned. Usually the bigger the Therian, the more faults they found with Austen. That he was small, weak, about as fierce as a kitten. Austen cocked his head to one side.
“What do you see when you look at me?”
Zach seemed to think about it for a moment. “I see an agent who’s very good at what he does. He must be to be an SSA. I see someone willing to risk his life to help his team, to do what’s right and bring those who’ve done wrong to justice. I see a sharp, skilled, fast cheetah Therian who can run circles around a lot of the bigger agents I know. Bigger doesn’t always mean better.”
Austen gaped at him. What in the holy ever-living fuck? He blinked at Zach. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
“Shouldn’t be so quick to judge.”
Austen frowned. “You’re right. And for the record, I didn’t think you were stupid, but I apologize if it came across that way.”
Zach smiled, and it did something funny to Austen’s tummy. This couldn’t be good. He quickly pushed that feeling aside.
“I, um, think I’m okay to sit on my own.”
Zach nodded and gently put Austen down on the floor. Austen sat there at a loss for the first time in his life. He’d never come across anyone like Zach. It was… disturbing. “You, uh, want to play cards?” Austen asked. “I got a pack in my duffel bag.” He motioned to the bag on the floor behind him.
Zach nodded, and Austen asked him to grab the pack of cards for him, and he did, handing them to Austen and resuming his seat on the mattress next to him. With a grin, Austen dealt the cards.
“What are we playing?” Zach asked.
“Go Fish.”
Zach arched an eyebrow at him, and Austen laughed.
“It’s not because you’re a bear Therian. I just like to play it.”
Zach smiled widely, and Austen picked up his cards.
Maybe this arrangement wasn’t going to be so bad after all.
THIRDS Thursday Thanksgiving Special.
SLOANE STARED up at the starry night painted on the ceiling and sighed. The facility was quiet today. It was Thanksgiving. Most of the staff, including Dr. Shultzon, were spending the day with their families eating turkey and stuffing.
THIRDS Beyond the Books Volume 1 Page 13