This one takes place some time after they met. They clear up some issues and start taking their friendship to another level.

Rain pattered down heavily outside as Cain hurried through his apartment getting ready to leave for work. It was only half an hour later than he would have normally been out the door, half an hour that he had lounged on his bed for no reason and ignored his alarm clock, but it would cost him in the long run when he tried to navigate traffic in this weather. It would just be one of those dreadful days where nothing got done. One of the elevators was out of service, so Cain went quickly to the one beside it and pushed the button more than was necessary.

He was about to move on to the next one when the bell dinged and the doors slid open to an unexpected sight this early, or late depending how one looked at it, in the morning.

"Hi, Wyatt." Ambrose gave him a weak smile, standing in the middle of the elevator, pale and shivering and completely drenched.

Over the last few months since he had met Ambrose, Cain had seen him come home covered in soot, paint, chalk, and other substances from experiments he didn't really want to know about. Eventually he had learned that his mysterious neighbor wasn't so mysterious after all. He wasn't a mad scientist either; just an engineer who was in between jobs at the moment and taught two courses at the university, one on engineering and the other on political science. And who also had two nieces who loved arts and crafts, and an impressive collection of odd gadgets and side-projects that were prone to misfires, so at this point not much should surprise him. But the red flag that caught his attention this time was the tiny but fresh wound on his face. Though smaller than an inch, Wyatt had seen enough fist fights to know this wasn't the kind of injury one got by accident.

"You're soaking wet." He said without amusement, momentarily ignoring the mark on Ambrose's cheekbone, "What happened?"

"Well it is pouring rain outside, in case you couldn't hear or see that from your windows."

"Why didn't you park in the multistory?"

The elevator bell made a faint ringing sound again and Cain's hand shot out to stop the doors from closing.

"I don't drive." Ambrose offered as a simple explanation as he got out and walked past him, "I missed the bus and I couldn't get a cab."

"You're telling me you walked all the way over here in this rain?" Cain demanded, more concerned now about the shivering than the cut, "Jesus, Ambrose. Come on, let's get you warmed up."

He took Ambrose by the arm and guided him back down the hall, no longer caring about how late he would be at work.

"What happened?" Cain asked again more softly when he reached his apartment and started unlocking the door.

"Nothing really," Ambrose muttered, disentangling his arm from Cain's grasp as he stopped at his own door hesitantly, "Um, you don't have to-"

"I'm a little scared of your place to be honest, at least here I know where things are and won't end up tripping over one of your little projects like last time. Besides, for some reason I doubt you have a first aid kit." He pointed at the small cut, finally acknowledging it as he held the door open, "Just come in, and I'll patch that up for you."

"Don't you have to go to work?"

"I'm already late," Cain shrugged, "I'll just blame it on the rain."

"Alright then." Ambrose said, a corner of his lips quirking up slightly as he stepped inside.

Cain's apartment, or at least his living room which was all Ambrose had seen before, was simple, organized, and had an air of classical masculinity. It was clear that not many people, certainly no women, lived here; and that the place felt a little duller and dimmer for it.

He left Ambrose sitting on the couch while he went to his room and got a towel and the thickest blanket he owned. When he got back, he was a little surprised and entirely pleased to find Ambrose still there.

"Here," Cain tossed him the towel and blanket, "Take off your coat and put that on. I'll be right back."

Another quick trip down the short hallway and back again, and he was sitting on the couch next to Ambrose; laying out the things he needed from the first aid kit on the coffee table.

"So," he said as he pressed a clean cloth over his friend's injured cheek, "Ready to tell me what happened yet?"

Ambrose gave him a long, languid look before answering. "I was just meeting with someone at a really late hour-or really early I suppose-we ended up arguing and it got out of hand. He's just... a creepy asshole. I don't know why I'm still trying to go back to him."

While he listened and calmly cleaned the small wound, Wyatt felt like he was threading through an emotional minefield.

Just the idea of someone hurting Ambrose made his hands curl into fists and his blood boil. Adding to that the knowledge that it had happened late at night, when he was alone with someone he apparently knew well, only made him feel more protective of his friend for reasons he had tried to ignore. In only the few months they had known each other, Ambrose had become a bright fixture in his daily life. Even if it was just during tiny instances when they came back home at the same time, or rode the elevator together, or crossed paths when doing laundry-something Cain may or may not have coordinated on purpose-or had lunch together in the diner down the street, or a cup of coffee in each other's apartment, Cain enjoyed the other man's company more than he ever thought he would. And it didn't help that his son saw right through him and pushed him Ambrose's way whenever he could; silently telling him again and again that he was okay with it. All that was left was for Wyatt to admit the same thing to himself.

Just the thought of someone hurting his sweet, funny, quirky neighbor and friend got to Cain so much because he was on the road to falling in love with him.

Satisfied that stitches wouldn't be needed, he placed a thin band aid on Ambrose's cheekbone and tried to keep his expression carefully neutral as he considered his next words.

"Press charges against him. Get a restraining order," he spoke casually, trying to brush off his own feelings, as if they were still talking about the weather, "What's the point of you being friends with a cop if I can't help you get rid of one lousy ex-boyfriend?"

For a stretched moment Ambrose didn't say anything at all, with only the rain interrupting the silence; he just sat there, slowly drying the dark curls plastered to his forehead and staring at him with wide brown eyes. And then he laughed. Cain wasn't sure what he had expected Ambrose's response to be, but laughing was the furthest thing from his mind.

"What?" He said, slightly vexed at his friend's reaction,

"You think Raynz-God, no!" He laughed, looking disgusted at the thought. "He is not my boyfriend, never was and never will be, in this life or any other. I have standards, you know? " Ambrose sighed, still giggling faintly even as he talked about what happened, "Heused to be my employer a few years ago, and I might have insulted his life's work last night."

"So you weren't there to-"

"No. I was just trying to see if there was any chance of getting my old job back at some point... It was a good job."

"But you're okay? I can still help you get that restraining order."

"Let's just say he threw the first punch but he didn't get out unscathed." Ambrose said with an impish smile, "I'm pretty sure he'll be getting a restraining order against me."

"Just as well."

A relieved smile must have slipped through his mask, or a hopeful glint made its way to his eyes, or maybe Cain just looked down at those delicate lips at the wrong time. Something must have changed on his face, because suddenly Ambrose's face was very close and his mouth was parting slightly open in invitation.

Wyatt closed the distance without a second thought, giving in to his feelings for his neighbor as they deepened the kiss. Ambrose's hands were still cold to the touch on the back of his head and neck, but he had stopped shivering, and his mouth was like a welcoming furnace that made it hard for Cain to get away.

"I'm sorry," he sighed, reluctantly breaking the kiss, "We can't do this right now."

"Oh," Ambrose sat back, his shoulders slumping under the blanket. "Because of your wife?" He asked gently, laying a hand on his knee, "It's alright. I should get going then... And just so you know, I do own a first aid kit, but thanks for your help." He gave him one more wistful smile and started getting up, but didn't get very far; now it was Cain's turn to clear up a misunderstanding.

"Ambrose," Wyatt said slowly, grabbing his hand and drawing him onto his lap, "We can't do this right now because you're cold and hurt and I feel like I'd be taking advantage."

"Seriously?" Ambrose grinned and arched a playful brow at him, "Wyatt Cain: handsome and a perfect gentleman. Where have you been all my life?"

"Three states south, wondering where you were."

Outside, the rainstorm was only getting worse, but Cain couldn't imagine anything more comfortable than this. He watched Ambrose as Ambrose watched the rain through the clear sliding doors, and took in the beautiful sight; something unexpected this early, or late, in the morning. It would just be one of those days to laze around without anything getting done, and he was okay with that now.

"Would you like some hot chocolate?"

"You're really not going in to work? I'm not daydreaming this? I can wander off sometimes..." Cain shook his head while jokingly pinching him on the side. "Then I'd love some hot chocolate."

Ambrose slid off his lap and went to the kitchen after him. "And you have to let me take you out on a real date. Not lunch, or snacks here and there. An actual dinner and the whole shebang."

Already retreating to some faraway place as he thought and planned, Ambrose leaned against the counter as Cain started making the hot drinks.

"How about dancing? I know you think I have terrible balance but you might be surprised."

Cain met his gaze from across the kitchen and admitted, not for the first time, "I'm sure I will."