A/N: Queenie and I decided to tag team another fic. We are both so obsessed over this new series. You should really join us in watching it and drooling over the awesome that is this dynamic duo.

"Who is it?" Milt's voice came through the speaker by the door.

"Who the hell else would be coming over?" Russ scoffed in return.

"Ah, hold on." The disguised wall started to move, opening up Milt's "temporary" home to Russ. It started to close automatically behind him and the Agent called, "In here."

Russ followed the voice to the living room and froze in the entryway as he took in the sight before him. Milt was relaxed on the couch, his legs spread out over its length with his back propped against a throw pillow as he read a book. He was dressed down in navy blue sweat pants and a plain grey tee. His hair was slightly rumpled, appearing freshly washed and free of all that gel.

He spared only a glance at Russ, pushing his glasses back up his nose. "Have a seat. Make yourself at home." His attention returned to his book and Russ snapped out of it and placed himself in the comfortable arm chair that faced the couch.

He attempted not to let his gaze wander but Russ couldn't seem to help it. Milt looked good dressed down. His hair loose as it was and those glasses… Russ had fought hard not to react to that similar look when they had been playing undercover maple syrup vendors the other day. To see the full picture of a perfectly relaxed Milt, out of his stuffy suit and not playing the part of Super Agent, was a rather nice thing.

Clearing his throat, Russ kicked his feet back onto the coffee table. "So what's up?" he inquired, attempting to sound casual.

Milt's eyes flicked to his feet before up at Russ, raising a meaningful brow. "Feet. Down." Russ grumbled but followed orders. It wasn't his house after all, although he was tempted to keep them put just to fuck with Milt- it was quickly growing into his favorite past time after all. "To answer your question, I've been catching up on my reading."

Russ hummed in response, looking around the space. It was still mostly barren. Clearly Milt hadn't really settled himself in. Then again, he claimed to be looking for a more permanent space so perhaps he just didn't want to be packing up twice.

"Not really, no," Milt commented and it took Russ a moment to realize he must have spoken aloud. "Although living out of boxes is starting to grow old," he admitted, turning the page of his book. Russ made a noncommittal noise. Milt finally looked up from his book, brows lowered. "Was there a reason you stopped in?"

"What? Oh, yeah… yeah." Russ paused, finding he couldn't remember.

Milt smirked a little, attempting to school his features when Russ looked at him. "Well since you're here, care to stay for dinner?"

"Umm, sure."

Closing his book, Milt left it on the coffee table before heading to the kitchen. Russ waited a minute before following, curious. He certainly wasn't expecting to find the man setting out fresh ingredients, apparently planning to cook. Russ had been figuring take-out to be honest.

"You cook?" Apparently he didn't have a filter that evening.

Milt smiled softly again. "A bit. Care to help?"

A bit turned out to be rather skilled in Russ' opinion. Milt moved around the kitchen in relative silence, working on finishing the grilled chicken after covering a pot of rice. Russ leaned back against the island, attempting to stay out of the way.

"So who taught you how to cook?" Milt arched a brow in his direction. "You said sharing is caring," Russ reminded, clasping his hands in front of him.

Milt sighed before answering, "My mom. She wanted to make sure that I could fend for myself."

Russ nodded as he replied, "That's nice," watching as Milt took the chicken off the heat, allowing it to sit. "Is that all? Rice and chicken?"

"Don't forget vegetables. We want you to grow up big and strong Russ." Milt smirked deviously as he got in the fridge, pulling out a bag of broccoli.

Russ huffed, "I'm not four ya know."

Milt passed Russ to grab a saucepan, brushing up against him in what was probably meant to be a casual manner. "Oh, I know."

What the hell is that supposed to mean? Russ demanded to himself. Aloud he simply snipped about Milt being a smartass and decided it was best to leave it alone.

When dinner was served, Russ found his legs tangled with Milt's own long legs, knees bumping together under the small table. He tried not to react, instead tucking into his food. "This is really good," he mentioned around a mouthful of rice. Milt only shook his head in amusement, choosing to ignore his poor table manners.

Russ looked up at the Agent, swallowing his food and the lump in his throat. His mouth was suddenly dry, watching the way Milt's hair flopped down over his forehead, the urge to brush it away insanely at the forefront. Also those glasses were not helping the situation. "You look really good in glasses." Oh fuck. He'd really just said that aloud, hadn't he?

Milt actually smiled, turning his face away in an attempt to hide the blush that crossed his cheeks. "Thanks. I, umm, I usually wear my contacts. I wasn't exactly expecting company."

Encouraged by the reaction Russ continued, "Well you should wear them more often." Milt looked over at him thoughtfully then. Russ shrugged, in an attempt to downplay it. "I mean why poke yourself in the eye all the time when you have perfectly good glasses, you know?"

Milt shifted in his seat. "I guess I could do that."

Russ nodded, a silence descending over them as they finished up their meal. He took his plate and moved around the side of Milt to grab his as well, taking them into the kitchen. As he started to run the water, Milt walked in behind him. "How about you wash and I dry?"

"Sure," Russ replied, throwing the drying towel at his chest. Milt sidled up next to Russ at the sink with a soft smile on his face.

After they finished cleaning the kitchen and putting the leftover food away, they made their way into the living room. "Care for a movie?"

"Got anything with explosions?" Russ asked, taking a spot on the vacated couch.

Milt only shook his head, barely containing a laugh which Russ took for a win. That feeling was fleeting as Milt settled onto the couch next to him, his heart going into his throat. And seriously, what was with this shit? Was he some stupid teenager again? Fuck.

He barely noticed as Milt sifted through a few choices, apparently settling on the original Die Hard movie. "Really?" Russ inquired with a raised brow.

"What? McClane reminds me of you."

Russ smirked at that, leaning back into the cushions. "So a total badass then."

The corner of Milt's mouth twitched up. "I was actually referring to the grumpy, pain in the ass part."

"Oh that's it Chamberlain," Russ shot back, however Milt could tell it was good-natured with the way he laughed. "You can go fuck yourself."

"That would be a little difficult."

"What with the stick up your ass."

Milt nodded. "That would be a hindrance, yes." He shot an amused sideways glance to Russ.

Snorting, Russ retorted, "Well just 'cause yer a pretty boy don't think I'm gonna help ya any." It was out of his mouth before he thought to filter it. His eyes widened when he realized and looked rather like a deer in the headlights as Milt gazed at him in equal surprise.

"I, uh," Russ tried to cover, "I didn't mean that like it sounded." Milt nodded except Russ still didn't shut up. "I mean not that you aren't attractive or anything. You are. But then you already knew that. I just meant… fuck, what did I mean?"

Milt's hand fell on his forearm, effectively shushing Russ. "You're cute when you ramble," he mentioned, causing Russ' face to heat up though he somehow managed not to look away that time. "And I may have a thing for grumpy old Detectives."

"Really?" Russ couldn't think of anything more intelligent to say.

Milt smiled softly. "Well," he teased, "maybe just one."

Russ grinned back, hearing the permission there. He leaned in, pressing their lips together. It wasn't anything spectacular- he didn't see fireworks, or hear birds singing, or whatever else they said happened- but there was a sense of rightness to it all the same. He paused for only a moment before leaning closer to Milt, cupping his jaw as he kissed him properly then.

Milt's fingers curled into his shirt, dragging him forward. His tongue brushed against Russ' lower lip, making the older man smile. He knew Milt was the incorrigible type- their short working relationship only proving that- but in this Russ didn't mind at all. Instead he locked his arms around Milt's waist and gave him a tug into his lap.

The young Agent didn't seem to mind straddling him, the soft moan giving him away. All the same, Milt pulled back, gazing down at him from behind those damned glasses. It caused Russ to smile softly, reaching up to run his fingers through soft, untamed locks. "So," Russ mused in an attempt to break the building tension, "that mean you're gonna wear your glasses more there Pretty Boy?"

Milt chuckled, shaking his head as he bent down to rest his head on Russ' shoulder. His breath tickled Russ' neck as he replied, "If it gets that kind of reaction, I just might have to." Russ didn't reply, only pulled Milt closer as he smiled.

They had undoubtedly crossed a line where their relationship was concerned, and for once that didn't terrify Russ in the slightest.

/End