Chapter Text
“Should we go out for coffee and tea?” Harold’s voice brought John wide awake, and he smiled before he thought about it. His first thought was that Harold wasn’t in his suit, and he had to shove down his laughter.
“Are you happy?” Harold was on his side, leg on top of a pillow, and staring intently at John. “Was that laughter? Are you well?”
“I probably need to see a doctor.” John took a long stretch, managing to get closer and wanting to touch him. “Is your brain on-line?”
“Yes.” Harold didn’t have his glasses on, and he looked very different. “But I’m resisting my phone.”
“Very brave of you.” John wasn’t sure where to put his arm because he wanted to pull him close. He’d learned very early in life that wanting and having were two very different things. He felt more for Harold now, but he wasn’t sure it meant he could put his arm around him.
Harold took a deep breath – John actually heard it – and snaked his hand around John’s neck, tugging gently. “Yes?”
“Yes.” John was sure of that answer. He shut his eyes so he wouldn’t see if Harold changed his mind and bumbled his way to kissing him. He’d thought about this, more than once, during quiet moments in the dark, but he barely had time to gasp as Harold drove all the thoughts out of him.
Some people were just good at kissing. A few people were just good to kiss, but kissing Harold was beyond good. It made a groan come up from his toes, and if his eyes had been open, he was sure he’d be seeing stars.
“Oh, my,” Harold whispered, petting John’s hair and making sure John fell into another kiss that made him lose his mind. The comforter was suddenly blazing hot on John’s skin, and he pushed it back, daring to rise up over Harold as another kiss made him groan. Harold grinned, looking young, and gripped John’s bicep. “I agree.”
Never one to overthink a situation, John licked his way back into Harold’s mouth. Harold made a groaning noise from deep in his throat, and John chased it, kissing his way down. Careful where he put his big hands, he took a few small bites because he liked the sound Harold made in protest.
“You’re going to leave a mark!” Harold gasped, and he retaliated by tugging on John’s short hair. John liked that a lot, licking a swipe down to the edge of Harold’s pajama bottoms. Harold sighed. “Safe at last.”
John laughed at the drama, grabbed the elastic top with his teeth and didn’t stop pulling until he had room to suck Harold’s cock into his mouth. If John had ever imagined this moment, he’d been sure Harold would talk the entire time. Harold let out a sharp gasp, hands clutching, but no words, just indescribable noises that made John apply himself with great enthusiasm.
“John!” Finally, a word, and John ignored the pull in his hair so he could swallow and then lick him clean. Harold was back to groaning and mumbling, so John moved up over him, thrusting, not caring that his boxers were in the way. Harold’s clever hands somehow shoved his boxers down, and when John’s cock hit bare skin, it was all over.
“Well,” Harold drawled, eyes a bit wild. “I suppose I needed a shower.”
Kissing him, John laughed and gasped, shaking until he had to sink down to the side, careful of Harold’s parts. “Wow,” he whispered, thinking this might be the best day of his recent life.
Harold gave out a sigh that sounded happy. “So much to do today.” And it was clear his brain was back in business. John found a way to tuck himself close and licked Harold’s chest where there was some splatter. His boxers were still around his thighs, and he didn’t care.
“So much to do,” John said, finding another spot to lick.
Kissing him on the forehead, Harold made no move to get up. “Let me know when you’re ready to begin the day.”
Tilting his face up for another kiss, John thought maybe it could wait a minute.
***
“Packers got this.”
“Shut yer pie hole,” John grumbled, wishing Daniel wasn’t right. It was a beautiful Fall day. It’d started right, and even the Packers couldn’t ruin it. The Seahawks had played the early game, so John was thinking he’d grill up some burgers when it was over. There were some jalapeños in the fridge.
Right now, beer and peanuts were sitting on a long-ago breakfast with Harold, who had disappeared into his limo after patting John on the arm. “Enjoy your game,” he’d said.
John smirked and didn’t ask where Harold was going. Harold’s eyes had been bright, and he’d call if there was a number.
Packers kicked a field goal, and John groaned.
“Might as well start grilling,” Daniel said, barking a laugh.
“Do not go near that Twitter hell site. Not enough meat.” John pointed at him to emphasize. “Anyway, I’m sulking.”
Daniel laughed, and John considered some mild revenge. When the final seconds ran out, and not one second before, John eased to his feet and took a long stretch. A couple of people gave him a side-eye, and an older man had the temerity to point at the kitchen.
“I’m going!” John complained, hearing a few chuckles. “But the food will be tainted with sadness.”
“Drama. Wow.” Daniel handed him an apron. “Cover up that pretty jersey.”
“Oh, zip it.” John put it on and went to wash his hands. He didn’t rush, and he experimented with the cayenne in Daniel’s burger. The coughing, crying results of that were satisfying.
Business stayed light, so John picked up the slack, delivering plates when Daniel was busy. Tonight, it was mostly regulars, and he commiserated with a few Jets’ fans who also hated the Packers.
“Can we get some burgers over here?”
John turned, ready to snap back when his eyes stopped his mouth in its tracks.
Fusco’s eyes bulged. “Or hey, whatever, we ain’t in no rush, right, Carter?”
Carter looked from Fusco to John, eyes quick, mind sharp. “Well, I do need to get home at some point.”
“Two burgers, sure.” John was going to kill Fusco later. Right now, he was relieved that he looked nothing like the Man in the Suit. He tried for a customer service smile. “Fries?”
“Nah,” Carter said, but Fusco nodded. His eyes were still crazy, and John heard Carter whisper as he turned away, “You know that guy?”
“Tall, dark, and slightly scary? Nah.” Fusco guzzled some beer. “I heard the burgers are great here.”
Pulling Daniel into the kitchen with him, John took a breath. “They’re cops.”
“I noticed.” Daniel looked him over, frowning. “You on the run or something?”
“Something,” John muttered. “Watch the short one.”
“Will do.” Daniel went back to the bar, and John made sure their food was good enough that there’d be no complaints. Being that close to Carter had made John sweat. He’d admit it later to Harold. And that sent John to his phone and a quick text to warn Harold off.
John was scrapping the last of the grease off the grill when Daniel stepped back. “Short one wants a word.”
Fusco was at the bar, and John wiped it down in front of him, casual and glad Carter had gone home. “You getting a cab?”
“Only had the one,” Fusco growled. Then he made a show of looking John up and down. “New day job?”
“I’d been starting to not hate you.” John let his full glare loose. “You got anything else?”
“Glad to know where I can reach you.”
“This guy bothering you, John?” Daniel was right at John’s shoulder, arms crossed.
Fusco smirked. “You paid HR this month?”
Anger pulsed in John’s jaw, but the door swinging open caught his eye. Harold made a snappy entrance, also drawing Fusco’s attention.
“The Professor,” he whispered.
“Detective Fusco, a moment of your time, please.” Harold made a sharp gesture at the door, and John followed them out to watch Harold bully Fusco into the limo. It pulled away, and John leaned against the door jamb, trusting him but wanting to listen.
“You’re not allowed to kill cops.”
“Says you.” The last two customers scooted out, running from friendly fire, and John shut the door harder than necessary before locking it. “You been paying HR?”
“It’s that, or be burned out.” Daniel shrugged. “Fact of life.”
“Those cops need early graves,” John muttered, going to clean his kitchen and noticing Daniel didn’t argue with him. It was a sour ending to a good day, even if the Seahawks lost. “I’m getting a Seahawk flag for over the bar!”
“No! You’re not!”
John grinned. He’d finish here, and then he was heading to the Library.
***
Harold couldn’t control his smile when John came striding up the stairs. It was impossible to keep it away. Even dealing with Detective Fusco hadn’t driven off Harold’s good mood.
“Number?” John asked as soon as he came within distance of the desk.
“Yes, and Detective Fusco is handling it.” Harold put up a hand to forestall what would be John’s instant protest. “It’s time to trust him, even if he was less than polite tonight, and this number was right up his alley.”
The jawbone twitch told the story of John’s anger. Harold continued, “I also gave him a sizable amount of cash, and we both know that motivates him.”
“Damn it, Harold,” John snapped.
Harold came around the desk and stood very close to him. “John, I officially retired from the insurance business today, effective in two weeks. We need to get organized. Are you ready?”
John seemed to take a deep breath. He twisted his lips, but he nodded. “Harold, I’m sorry for my doubts, skepticism. I want to be your partner in this. You and me.”
“One goal.” Harold put his hand on John’s cheek, needing a touch. “We’ll save as many as we can.”
And after a long moment, John ducked his head and stole a kiss. “Partners.”
***
End