It takes Spirit several seconds longer than it should to identify the musical chime of an incoming call. Part of that is because his wristband isn't in fact on his wrist but instead on the floor, probably underneath Stein's shirt or his own jacket or maybe both. Part of that is because he's not expecting a call at this hour, which is why his wristband is well out of reach. And most of it is because he's distracted by the way Stein's mouth feels against his shoulder, the way the Enforcer is dragging his teeth across the skin like he's testing for a reaction from the redhead. He's getting one, too, Spirit's fingers are clenching into an involuntary fist in the other's silver hair and he's panting for breath and hasn't even gotten his shirt all the way off yet, just half-unbuttoned and shoved down over his shoulder.

So the sound is difficult to focus on, difficult to place even when Spirit recognizes it as linked to something important. Stein reacts first, pulls away so he can blink down at Spirit's face.

"Isn't that your phone?" He sounds remarkably calm, given their situation and his own relative state of undress. It's absolutely unfair, and he should not be so calm about the prospect of them being interrupted when Spirit hasn't had a chance to follow up on their original late-night interlude in the last week. So Spirit growls in irritation only half-feigned, and hooks his leg around the Enforcer's, and says, "It can wait," before he shifts his weight to invert their positions.

Stein lets him - Spirit's pretty sure he couldn't achieve the move, if the other man didn't want him to - falls back onto the bed with no attempt to catch himself so he lands with a satisfying impact. He's smiling, too, the faint amusement far more of a victory than an expression more easily won on someone else, and he doesn't offer further protest when Spirit leans down to kiss him again.

Then Stein's phone rings. Some part of Spirit is expecting it, this time, because he recognizes the flat electronic beep far faster than his own more familiar ringtone, offers a rebuttal before Stein has even said anything.

"It can wait," he repeats, shifts in sideways so he can lick against one of the smooth curves of white scar over the Enforcer's neck. Stein tenses and almost shivers under the contact and it feels like a victory. "It can wait, stay with me, it can't be important at this hour of the night."

There is a moment when Spirit thinks he might have convinced him; there's hesitation in every line of the Enforcer's body, he can feel desire warring with responsibility under his hands. But then Stein sighs, and Spirit knows he's decided, is pulling back even before Stein answers properly.

"It must be important, at this hour of the night," he corrects. "And there's nowhere else I could be but here."

He's right, for all that it's irritating, so Spirit slides sideways to drop facedown into the mattress while Stein gets up and fishes his wristband from under the table where it ended up.

"Yes?" He sounds perfectly calm. It's infuriating, Spirit is sure he could never sound so calm if he were answering the phone still flushed from the pressure of Stein's mouth on his skin instead of vice versa.

"Stein." That's Sid's voice, clear over the mild hum of static. He sounds professional as always but there's a strain under his tone, something that makes Spirit sit up before he's said more than the Enforcer's name. "We have a situation. Are you at the office?"

"I'm in my quarters," Stein says. He glances at Spirit, like he's looking for reassurance or maybe just reminding himself that the other is there, lets out a breath. "Do you need me?"

"Yes. Is Inspector Albarn with you?"

Spirit grimaces with self-consciousness but Stein just says "Yes," in that same flat tone, even though his eyes catch the light and sparkle with amusement for just a moment.

"Good." Sid doesn't comment further. "Bring him. I need you both here right now."

"What happened?" Spirit asks, since Sid already knows he's in the room and Stein appears ready to hang up with no further information.

"We were on a mission to secure a suspect, bring him in for treatment and observation. Things got messy." There's a brief pause, like Sid is taking a breath. "Medusa's on the run."

Spirit drops the coat he was just picking up from the floor. Stein doesn't flinch, picks up the thread of conversation like he was the one having it all along. "Is she armed?"

"She has at least a knife." There's another one of those pregnant pauses. "I've been getting only intermittent contact from Justin, too, and none at all from Giriko."

"Send Inspector Albarn your coordinates," Stein says. His voice and face both express no concern at all that half their team is possibly rogue, that they may be going out to bring in or bring down their colleagues. "We'll come straight there."

Spirit is still standing frozen when Stein hangs up, his coat forgotten at his feet. The Enforcer looks him over; another smile tugs at the corner of his mouth and he comes forward, picking up the jacket as he does.

"This is not the direction I saw my relationship with your clothes going tonight," he says as he reaches around to hold it for Spirit. The angle means he's very close by necessity, Spirit can feel the words humming warm just alongside his cheek.

"Yeah, well, we're agreed on that." Spirit's trying for humor but it falls flat even to his own ears. "Jesus, Stein, this is...not a good situation we're walking in to."

"I know." The Enforcer pulls Spirit's coat into place, turns away to collect his own shirt and tug it over his head. "We won't have any backup at all, if Justin and Giriko are out too."

Spirit huffs, crosses his arms over his still-rumpled shirt while Stein reaches for his glasses set on the table. "How can you be so calm about it?"

Stein pauses with his back to the Inspector, tips his head back so his hair falls over the collar of his shirt while he setting the frames in place. "The odds are stacked against us." He sounds considering, like he's looking at a puzzle from an odd angle. "I should be worried." He pauses, shifts his weight so he's turned in profile towards Spirit. "But." A sideways glance, the tension of that smile again. "I just can't picture us losing."

Spirit should be angry. That's no answer at all, really, there's no logic there. But what hits him isn't anger, it's a flush of pleasure and inexplicable comfort, like Stein is predicting the future instead of just describing his intuition.

"Well." Spirit pulls his jacket needlessly straight, runs a hand over his hair to straighten it. "Okay then."

Stein grins at him, then, the full sharp edge of a real smile finally bursting over his face, and when he jerks his head towards the door Spirit nods, and leads the way out of the room.