by J Rocci
tackle box, and some rolls of heavy duty fluorescent marking tape. A twig was poking him in the butt, so he shifted until he was comfortable. He finally thought to say in a low voice, "We probably shouldn't talk so loud. Seems to set them off."
Grady just stared at him and Craig realized the other man's glasses were missing again, probably out where Grady had been lying on the bank. Oops.
Also, Craig was still naked. And covered in mud.
He scratched absently at his chest, brushing his fingers on his equally dirty thigh when the mud flaked off. The contents of his little nest were warm from the Florida sun, he was slowly drying but the mud felt nice on his skin so far, and Mr. G-man himself was stretched out next to Craig, hugging the bottom of the truck bed.
Actually, this was a pretty good day. He settled in to bask, since the sun's rays felt twice as toasty reflected off the white paint job, like a little Easy Bake Oven. Perfect.
"Seriously?" Grady whispered in a furious deadpan.
Cracking an eye back open, Craig let his head fall to the side to arch a lazy eyebrow at him. "Hm?"
"We're surrounded by angry crocodiles and you're taking a nap?"
"Can't change back for at least an hour yet," Craig murmured around an involuntary yawn. "They can't get up here, and I think the one dude concussed himself on your wheel well, so--" He shrugged. "Might as well make the best of it."
"So you admit that you were a crocodile before," Grady hissed triumphantly. "Hah."
Craig grinned at him, pleased he hadn't run for the hills or fainted again. "Yup."
"A were-crocodile." Grady frowned, then said in a more wondering tone, "A were-crocodile that rescued me from a herd of aggressive crocodiles that are usually docile around this time of year-- You're that humongous croc I've been seeing around, aren't you?" He peered at Craig. "How long have you been here?"
Craig shrugged, lacing his hands behind his head and totally not smirking when Grady's eyes drifted to his lap. "Couple years."
"I wonder..." Grady started muttering to himself, getting up on his knees to open the small sliding window to the truck cab. Too bad it was too small for either of them to really reach through, probably to keep the damn raccoons out.
"--could be a result of--" He snagged a metal clipboard from the passenger seat and struggled to get it through the window. "--but would the data-- No, not in such a short time period-- Maybe a causal effect from the weather--"
"Need a hand?" Craig offered, still sunbathing.
Grady waved him off and paused long enough to peer warily over the edge at their captors. From the way Grady gulped and the bellow down below, Craig figured they were still surrounded.
Slowly, Grady lowered himself back to the truck bed, stretching out and wincing as he settled his leg.
"I think we need to call for help," he whispered, voice a little too calm as he enunciated slowly. "They look really crazy. I'm just here to get my internship credits so I can graduate. I'm not here to be eaten by rabid crocodiles."
Craig frowned at him, wondering if he should re-think his crush. "Crocodiles can't get rabies. What kind of student are you?"
"I know that. I was using hyperbole," Grady protested. Someone barked in response and he twitched. "Seriously, this is weird behavior for them. Have you ever seen them chasing humans in a pack before?"
Shrugging, Craig crossed his ankles. "Nah, but this has been an odd season." He looked at Grady with a wide grin. "Maybe you just smell irresistible to them?"
Grady looked at Craig, looked down at his mud-spattered clothes, then to Craig's lack of clothes, and blushed again. Without his hat, his hair seemed almost red in the sunlight. Craig filed that detail away like he dragged bits of treasure back to his hoard. Hm. A hoard of Grady...
He realized he was staring at about the same time Grady got back to his knees and tried to reach the dash radio through the window. His arms were too short, though, and Craig was enjoying the view too much to help. There was no need to panic anyway.
"I can change back and chase them off in about an hour," Craig offered when Grady was starting to look defeated. "We can just chill until then."
Giving up, Grady sat down and just looked blankly at the tailgate for a moment before he visibly shook himself.
"Right, yes. Okay. So." He turned to look at Craig, very obviously going to the effort to keep his eyes on Craig's face. Too cute. "Were-crocodile. Interesting genus. Not one you see in popular media that often, but I'm thinking it's pretty cool."
"It has its moments." Craig nodded lazily, flopping a hand on his chest. Grady's eyes strayed downward, but just for a moment.
"May I ask how one ends up a were-crocodile in the Florida Everglades? You look about my age."
"Eh, I took some time off to see the world before my last year of college. My last destination was back-packing through the jungles of Belize before hitting the beaches. It's a beautiful place-- gorgeous sands, lush vegetation, hot guys--" Grady's eyes widened at that, but he didn't seem put off. If anything, he started to look a little more interested. Craig grinned. "I explored some wicked Mayan ruins, but made the mistake of camping on some sacred grounds. Got chomped by a guardian spirit in the middle of the night."
Grady blinked and seemed at a loss for words. He had really long eye lashes.
"It's my own fault," Craig admitted readily. "I had already seen some of the famous ones by then -- Xunantunich, Cahal Pech -- but when I found this unmarked site deep in the jungle, I thought I'd hang out, explore for a few days. Then BAM!"
Grady startled hard enough to shake the truck. Craig smiled wider but Grady just rolled his eyes.
"Who would willingly camp out in a wild jungle by themselves?" He asked archly.
"I wasn't alone. My boyfriend at the time was there, but he didn't really care about the archaeology, he just wanted the beaches. He actually slept through it all." Craig tilted his head back to contemplate the clouds overhead. "I'd always thought he didn't listen to me much. That kind of cemented it."
"Ah."
Craig gave him an inquiring look. "Ah? Was that a good 'ah' or a bad 'ah'?"
This time Grady smiled mysteriously and shrugged one shoulder. "It was an 'ah'."
Craig snorted and closed his eyes again. "What about you, Dr. Doolittle? How'd you end up in the swamp?"
Chuckling, Grady tried to pull his legs in closer with a wince. "Like I said, I'm just trying to get enough credits to graduate. I have a job lined up at a conservation firm that works with the state lobbyists on environmental policy."
It was Craig's turn to blink. "That sounds--"
"Boring? Dull?" Grady prompted wryly.
"No. Like you're an incredibly smart guy." Craig gave him a pointed once-over. "I think brains are hot."
Grady blushed and buried his face in his hands. A muffled, "How is this my life?" seeped out.
Well. Craig felt kind of bad about that one. He was just trying to give him a compliment.
"Sorry," he offered when Grady let his hands drop again. "I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
"I-- You--" Grady fumbled for words. "Just, you didn't. You're not. But--"
"But I'm a little too out there, even if you were interested?" Craig offered with a wistful smile, hoping there were no hard feelings.
"I-- um," Grady cleared his throat roughly. "I'm-- I'm interested. I think. I mean, we just met. In a swamp. With hungry crocodiles. I don't even know your name."
"Well, when you put it that way, the first date is going to have a hard act to follow."
Grady laughed, like Craig had intended, and the sound did funny things to Craig's insides. He'd been attracted to guys before, but not like this.
"Craig. My name is Craig."
"Grady."
A comfortable silence descended and Craig tried not to drift off. The mud was baking on his skin, leaving him wonderfully warm, although it was starting to flake. He frowned and scratched at his stomach, intrigued as a chunk of mud fell down to shatter on the floor.
Grady shifted and Craig looked up at him, catching a glimpse of beautiful green eyes before they darted away from his hands. Nimble fingers plucked at a loose thread from the hole on the knee of his jeans.
"You're bleeding," Craig pointed out with a frown, seeing brownish red through the hole.
"Huh," Grady poked at his flesh, tearing the hole wider until his entire knee was exposed. "So I am. I didn't even feel it."
"You probably don't want to leave that dirty for long," Craig warned. "All sorts of nasty stuff is out here."
Grady snorted. "I'm so clumsy, I've probably been exposed to every bacteria and microbe known to man. But you're right. I should flush it with drinking water. You're on the first aid kit."
Startled, Craig sat up and twisted to check out what he thought was a tackle box. He wrestled it to the middle of the truck bed in a shower of dirt. Carefully, he opened it and found some alcohol wipes and Band-Aids.
There was a gallon of water tucked in the corner under the tarp, and the sound of the cap popping off was loud over the quiet hum of insects and distant bird calls. Grady poured a generous amount over his knee, revealing a shallow gash. He must have scraped it over a rock.
When Grady gestured, Craig held out his hands and let them be rinsed off as well, shaking them in the air to dry them. He retrieved the packet of alcohol wipes and looked at Grady questioningly.
"Go ahead, I hate this part," he said, obviously bracing himself.
Craig opened the packet with just the tips of his fingers and dabbed at Grady's wound. Grady flinched with each contact, so Craig finally just slid his hand