Sometimes, Brian forgets how small the back room at Henry's is. He just gets used to it, and it's not until he spends a little time away from it, sees how real people live again, that he remembers he's essentially living in a closet.

Which is kind of funny, when he thinks about it, considering everything that's happened the last few days.

He doesn't really care. About the room, he means, not about the last few days, because he actually really does care about those. But the room, nah. It's just a place to stay. It's a bed – if you can even call it that without being ironic – a couple shelves, and a couple drawers. Not much, but then, he doesn't need much. He's…adaptable.

Besides, there're worse things to fall asleep surrounded by than car parts. There're better – warm arms, the sound of even breaths, and a deep, steady heartbeat – but there are definitely, definitely worse. It's easier to find shit this way, too; there's only a few places things could be.

He grabs some jeans and, after fighting with them for a few minutes trying to get them on over the brace, he gives up and puts the brace on over them. It's not like it's any big secret that he's got a busted knee; the crutches are kind of a dead giveaway.

They're also a pain in the ass in a tight space, though, so Brian leaves them propped in the doorway. He's pretty sure he can manage to hobble around his room without falling on his ass, and since Dom's out waiting in the car, and the store's closed for the day, there's no one to call him on it.

And since Dom's out in the car, Brian figures it's as good a time as any to put that call in to Tanner and ask off for the week.

He's got the phone held between his shoulder and his ear, and he's sitting on his bed trying to get his sneakers on while he talks to Tanner. "Nothing happened," he's saying, because of course, that's the first thing out of Tanner's mouth is asking him what happened in that 'what did you do this time' tone of voice he seems to reserve just for Brian. "Everything's copacetic."

He smiles, then, because even if Dom's not around to hear it, he can imagine him rolling his eyes in that fond 'why do I put up with this?' way that he seems to reserve just for Brian.

He's quiet for a second while Tanner talks, and then he nods, even though non-verbals are kind of lost in a phone call. It's just habit. "Yeah, if you could swing a week, that'd be good. Personal reasons." He pauses, then frowns and sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. "You sure you can't swing it? …oh, okay. Yeah, I guess that'll have to work, then. Tell Myers I said congrats on the baby girl." And then he snaps his phone shut, and it might be a little harder than he needs to, but he's too busy dropping his head into his hands to notice.

He doesn't get a week. He gets until Wednesday, but one of the guys just had a baby, and they're shorthanded. Don't get him wrong; he's cool with it, personally. He's sure as hell not gonna hold it against a guy for wanting to spend some time with his newborn child, and he's pretty sure he'll be fine enough to work by Wednesday.

He's just not real excited about telling Dom.

It's not that he thinks he'll flip out or anything. Brian tried, so it's not his fault, and he thinks that if anyone's gonna understand taking time for family, it'll be Dom. Still…maybe it's stupid or pathetic or something, but he just—he just really doesn't want to disappoint him. Dom doesn't ask for a whole hell of a lot. Honesty and trust, maybe, but he gives a hell of a lot more, and Brian just feels like he keeps doing shit halfway. He can't tell him everything about the case he's working, and Brian's working on the whole trust thing, seriously, but it's just really hard to change twenty-two years of bad habits. He can't get a whole week off, so he gets three days.

It just feels like all he's doing is trying, and maybe that's good enough for Dom, but it's not good enough for Dom. He deserves better than that. Brian wants to give him better than that, and he's trying, but it's just not working out how he—

There's a knock on the door, and Brian jerks his head up out of his hands to see Dom standing there, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed.

"You okay?" he says, and it's seem kind of casual, offhand, if he wasn't looking at Brian like he is. And Brian realizes right about then that sitting there on his bed with his head in his hands probably isn't a really reassuring picture.

He straightens up, rubbing a hand over his face real quick and shoving his phone in his pocket. "Yeah," he says. "Yeah, I'm good." He thinks the fact that he manages to get to his feet without toppling over or anything should be a point in his favor.

And he's not avoiding Dom's eyes; he swears. He's just trying to find a shirt.

"So, I called Tanner," he says, mostly just to fill the silence.

"And?"

He picks a t-shirt out of the drawer, gives it a quick sniff, and decides it'll do. "And I got some good news and some bad news." He shrugs the shirt on, and it catches on his nose a little bit, and by the time he gets his head out, Dom's standing in front of him.

"What's the good news?" Dom asks, face impassive. He's not looking at Brian, but at his chest, and Brian thinks about making a crack about his eyes being up here, but then Dom reaches out and takes the hem of the shirt where it's bunched up under his arms – the elastic wrap's a little bulky, and he's still working to get his full range of motion back in his shoulders – and fixes it for him. And damned if that doesn't kill any smart remark on his lips, because Dom's just so…shit, he doesn't have a word for it, but it makes his heart beat faster and his face feel a little warmer, and for someone that's always got something to say, it's strangely hard to find his voice.

He ends up having to clear his throat. "Good news is, a guy at the precinct's wife just had a baby. Poor bastard's been stressing about it for months."

"Good for him." And even though he's finished helping Brian with his shirt, Dom doesn't move back. Brian can almost feel the heat that seems to radiate off him like a damn furnace. "And what's the bad news?"

That's the part Brian really doesn't want to say, but he figures it's kind of like ripping off a bandage. He manages a sheepish chuckle, and he wants to rub the back of his neck, but that's not happening, so he settles for picking at his newly-righted t-shirt. "Bad news is, between his paternity leave and a guy we got out for appendicitis, we're short-staffed."

And color him chicken-shit, but he really doesn't want to see Dom's face when he tells him that the week they agreed on isn't gonna happen, so he slips out from in front of him and sets to filling his duffle bag with some spare clothes.

"So what's that mean for you?" Dom asks, and when Brian doesn't answer as quickly as he wants, he prompts him. "Brian."

It's the tone of voice that makes Brian pause in the middle of stuffing some t-shirts in his bag and sigh before going right back to packing his bag, just with a little less gusto. "It means I can't take the week."

"Brian—"

"I got until Wednesday, though," he says quickly, because at least there's that. And he may or may not be using the mostly-packed duffel bag as a visual aid. He's still packing stuff; he's still staying a little while. It's just not what they originally planned. "I figure I can just take it easy the other two days. 'm sure I got some paperwork I can be doing." Tanner'll be thrilled.

There's a second where Dom doesn't answer, and Brian's not freaking out, because that'd just be pathetic. Seriously. But then,

"I ain't your keeper, Brian. You don't answer to me." Coming from anyone else, it would sound harsh, but from Dom, and to Brian, it's a reassurance. Brian's not used to being coddled, not used to having people that really care one way or the other, and the fact that Dom's willing to give a little, meet him halfway, the fact that he's not expecting him to change all that in a couple days, that's a relief Brian really needed. "So would you stop skulking around and hurry up? We got places to be."

The last bit catches Brian a little off guard, and he turns around to see Dom smiling at him, the one that says he's having a laugh at Brian's expense. And Brian's actually totally okay with that, because he thinks if Dom can put a damper on his protective streak, he can manage to put one on his ego.

"Yeah, yeah. Keep your pants on," Brian grumbles, grabbing one last thing off his table before zipping up his bag and meeting Dom at the doorway.

Dom's still smiling. "Never thought I'd hear that coming from you."

"You're an asshole."

"And you're a pain in the ass," Dom says. "Guess that works out pretty well."

It's Brian's turn to smile, as he shoulders his bag and leads the way out the door. "Yeah, I guess it does." And he thinks that's the end of it, and he's heading for the door, only to realize about halfway to the counter that Dom's not with him.

He turns around, and can't keep the cringe off his face when he sees Dom still standing by the doorway, arms folded and eyebrow raised. "You forgetting something, O'Conner?" And in case Brian didn't catch on, he kind of ticks his head to the side.

Brian's crutches are still propped up on the wall.

He's about to go for them, but Dom beats him to it, grabbing them off the wall and bringing them to him.

"Pain in my ass," he says again as Brian takes them, but he's still smiling as he shakes his head, and as much as he sounds exasperated, he sounds fond, which makes it fine by Brian. "You got everything you need, Princess?"

Brian can't resist. He shuffles right up to Dom and lays one on him, then leans back with a wide grin and a wink. "I do now."

"Cheese ball."

"You know you love it."

And it turns out two can play this game, because Dom moves closer, presses a hand to Brian's cheek, looks him dead in the eye, and says, "I do now." And then he leans in and kisses him, and it's slow and deep and full of something Brian's not sure he wants to put a name to, and it isn't until air forces them apart that they stop.

Brian's face feels like it's on fire when they do – shit, his whole body does, and he doesn't know how much of it's Dom, and how much of it's…well, Dom – and he's a little out of breath as he runs his tongue across his lips. "You know we're never gonna make it to the garage at this rate." Not that he's complaining, because believe him, he's not.

Dom just presses their heads together, their noses brushing, and a rests a firm hand on Brian's hip. "It ain't going anywhere," he says, and his voice is low and rasped, and Brian feels it rumble pleasantly in his chest before the intoxicating feeling of Dom's lips recapturing his drowns everything else out.

Looks like they aren't going anywhere, either. At least, not for a while.