Scottie stumbles through the front door, trips on the hem of her dress and starts cracking up when Mike tries to catch her.

"You're drunk."

She snorts and shakes her head. "No, I'm not. I'm just, you know, tipsy." She sets her bag down on the bar and looks around. "Eddy's not here. Typical."

"Where'd he go?"

"He'll say he had a meeting, but it's a lie." She puts a finger up to her lips and laughs. "He's trying to throw us together."

"When you say throw us together, you don't mean..."

"Don't be stupid. No." She waves him off while pulling at her shoes and tossing them across the room. "You're not my type." She throws herself on the couch and stretches. "He wants us to be friends."

Mike rolls his eyes while taking Scottie's lead and removing his cufflinks and loosening the collar of his shirt. "I did tell him not to bother. It's not going to happen."

Scottie sits up, props her chin on the back of the couch and smiles at him.

"What?"

"I can make you my friend if I want to," she says.

"Okay. You are definitely drunk. Go to bed." Mike walks to her bedroom door, opens it and points.

"Mike," she whines. "Come sit with me."

"Why? You hate me. I hate you."

"You don't hate me."

"Of course I do."

She sighs dramatically and flops back down on the couch. She kicks her legs up, causing the silk fabric to ride all the way down to her hips and then points to the empty space. "Come sit with me and I'll tell you all the sordid details of my life. I know you're curious."

"I am not."

She raises her eyebrows. "Yes, you are."

He so is.

"Fine."

He plops down on the couch and grunts when her legs fall down over his lap. Not knowing where to put his hands, he decides to just cross his arms and look as put-out as he feels.

"Don't be mad about what I said at dinner. I was just trying to help. But sometimes I can overstep my boundaries."

"I'm happy with Harvey."

She smiles. "That's really good."

"Seriously? You seriously want me to believe that you're happy for me? You've been trying to throw a wrench in my relationship since the first time I set eyes on you."

"I didn't know you were Harvey's Sub the first time I met you."

He looks over at her. Her eyes are slightly glassy and tired. He shouldn't take advantage of her inebriated honesty, but… fuck it.

"What was that about, by the way? It would only be fair to tell me what it is I'm keeping secret from your Dom."

She stares at him stoically, sadly even as she contemplates whether or not to share her secret. Finally she makes up her mind, shifts uncomfortably and rubs a hand across her face.

"I was in New York on business. My firm sent me for three months to oversee a merger."

Mike feels a stab of jealousy. Scottie, a Sub, not only finished law school somewhere reputable enough to gain employment at a top firm but is also trusted enough to handle a high priority case. For three months. Abroad.

"Before I left I started freaking out a little, because, you know, it was the first time I'd been away from Eddy for more than a week or two. But he was so wonderful about it," she smiles. "He talked me through my anxiety and coached me on ways to deal with withdrawals."

"How long can you go?"

She shrugs. "Two weeks, maybe. But I've learned to go pretty far under from vocal interaction alone so I could hypothetically make it a couple months."

"Vocal? What, like telephone calls?"

"Right. Anyway, I'd never tested the theory so I was panicking. And then right before I left, when I was just about to leave for the airport and I was literally coming unglued, he tells me that he arranged to bring Marcus and come stay with me during the whole second month. Our most recent apprentice had just moved on and he wasn't particularly tied down at work and, well, I was so excited. All the way to New York I couldn't stop smiling just thinking about it"

"And?"

"And he cancelled." She shrugs. "It wasn't his fault and it's not like he's the type to do that, but I was crushed. I'd only been in New York a week and I was already sick from missing him and then I find out he's not coming. At all. That I'm stuck alone for three months."

Mike feels a stab of sympathy.

"I freaked out and started yelling at him on the phone. I called him neglectful. I said he was a terrible Dom and that I never -" her voice catches, "that I never should have chosen him." She shakes her head. "I didn't mean it. But I was so angry."

"What did he say?"

"He told me that I needed to cool down and that he'd call the next day and 'outline my consequences'", she says with a not-half-bad imitation of Darby's smooth English accent. "I was so blindingly furious that I did the one thing, the one thing I knew would piss Eddy off more than anything else."

"To pick up another Dom," Mike concludes.

"No!" She shakes her head. "He gave me permission to do that."

"Really?"

"Darby shares me all the time. I love variety and he loves watching me get fucked." The crude reminder makes Mike cringe. "But it's not something I'm usually allowed to do alone. We go together. Like a date."

"That's... weird."

"It's amazing," she smiles. "When he told me he couldn't make it the first thing he did was give me permission to find another partner. But there were all these rules. First, I had to try to let him talk me through it. If that didn't work I could get permission to go out. Second, I had to wear my collar and be one-hundred-percent upfront with whoever I met. And third, I had to call Eddy the next day and tell him everything. And I mean everything."

"That sounds reasonable."

"It was." She laughs. "No, it was generous."

"So what did you do that would make him so angry? Go out without your collar?"

She shakes her head slowly.

"What then?"

"You're not going to like this."

Mike feels suddenly cold all over.

"What?"

"It wasn't a coincidence that I was there that night, in the club."

Mike inches away from her slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I swear I didn't know Harvey had a Sub. I promise you. I thought you were his colleague. I thought he was unattached."

"Did you stalk us or something?"

"I'm not proud of it."

"That's so fucking creepy."

She drops her face into her hands, pulls her knees up to her chest and groans. "I know."

"Scottie, what did you do?"

"The details aren't important."

"Yes they are. Fucking tell me."

She looks up at him, guilt and shame written all over her pretty face. "I bought a cab and sat outside his apartment. He always used to go clubbing on Friday nights and I thought, maybe…"

"So you waited until we came down and followed us?"

She nods.

"For fuck sake, Scottie."

"I'm really sorry."

"Why are you apologizing to me? Apologize to your Dom, apologize to Harvey."

"I can't," she whispers brokenly and with tears in her eyes. Mike sighs and stands up. He goes to the bar to pour himself some of Darby's expensive whiskey on ice. Deciding it can't do her any more harm, Mike pours Scottie some as well.

"I'm not allowed," she says miserably when Mike offers her the glass.

Mike shrugs and sets it on the coffee table in easy reach. She stares at it longingly before picking it up and taking a hesitant sip. The look on her face is blissful.

Mike smirks. "Well, if he's going to leave it out and in easy reach, what's he expect?"

"Self-control," she says. "Which I am sorely lacking."

Mike snorts. "At least you know it."

She moans around her glass and nods. "I'm such a fuck up."

Mike rubs at his forehead where he can feel a headache blossoming. "You're a bipolar drunk."

"Fuck off."

Mike sets down his drink and then pries Scottie's fingers from her glass. "Tell me what Darby would do if you told him."

Her eyes widen. "I don't know."

"If you know what happened is the worst thing you could have done to him, and if you're this freaked out, you must have some idea."

"Why do you want to know?"

"So I can help."

"Why?"

"Because I've apparently lost my mind. Stop questioning me."

Scottie sniffs and wipes at her eyes. "I don't really know, but it would be bad."

"He doesn't abuse you, right?" She shakes her head enthusiastically. "Does he respect your safe word?"

"Always."

"Has he ever done anything you couldn't handle?"

She thinks about this. "No. He's really good about boundaries."

"Would he de-collar you?"

Her eyes grow wide and her fingers reach up to touch her collar protectively. "No, never. He'd never do that. We took vows."

Mike nods. "Then my advice is to tell him and accept the consequences. If you trust that he won't hurt or leave you, then lying to him for the rest of your life is going to be more punishment than accepting his consequences."

Scottie stares at him. "You sound so wise for such a young Sub."

"I've learned a lot." He picks up his drink and takes another sip. "What happened after Harvey and I left the club?"

Scottie rolls her eyes and falls back on the couch. "I left, picked up two pints of Ben and Jerry's and then laid in the hotel crying all night."

Mike snorts. "Good."

She kicks him and smiles weakly. "And then when I couldn't stand it anymore I called Darby and he let me cry for another hour without even asking what was wrong." She shakes her head. "He's so good to me. He doesn't deserve this."

"He'll forgive you," Mike says with confidence. "You're being too hard on yourself. So what? You felt lonely and scared and thought about finding some comfort with your old Dom, it's not like anything happened."

She frowns at him. "You don't get it do you?"

Mike shrugs.

"It's the worst kind of betrayal, what I did. I might as well have spit in his face."

Mike waits patiently for her to continue.

"When we met Eddy here at Roissy, Harvey already knew who he was. He knew about the apprenticeships, he just didn't understand how it worked. I did." Her eyes are wide with desperation, as if willing Mike to understand. To validate her. "He still thinks Darby and I were having an affair, doesn't he?"

Mike nods.

"No. Eddy was here to interview a Sub, someone's son from San Marino, I think. Sometimes what he'll do, especially if the Sub is young, is spend a couple of days with them. Get to know them and what they need and really see if what we do is right for them."

"And what happened?" Mike asks with genuine curiosity.

"He was all wrong. First, his parents lied about his English, so they could barely communicate. He was scared and worst of all he already had a Dom, some university student he'd been seeing behind his parent's back. Eddy never takes on Subs, especially eighteen year olds, unless they're unattached and enthusiastic about entering training. It was a disaster. Darby only spoke with him a few hours before realizing it was never going anywhere. So he packed him up and sent him home. The only problem was that he'd reserved four nights at Roissy."

"And you were his diversion."

"He didn't come on to me, if that's what you're thinking. It was mutual, we all wanted what happened. It was hot and dirty and new. Harvey liked it too, I don't care what he says now. He did." Her expression is tight and somewhat bitter. "I won't pretend that there wasn't chemistry between Darby and me, but I never thought about leaving Harvey. That came later."

"Why? What happened?"

"The same thing that happens to all failing relationships. I was unhappy, he was unhappy, and no matter how hard we tried, things kept getting worse. And then one day I woke up feeling miserable and alone and realized that I didn't have to keep living that way. So I called Eddy and asked to be considered for training."

The puzzle pieces start clicking into place in Mike's mind.

"The clandestine meetings in New York," he muses. "You weren't cheating, you were interviewing?"

She nods. "But it's the same thing, isn't it? To Harvey?"

"I guess so."

"Normally it takes a couple of years to get an interview, even back then. But when someone special comes along Eddy makes exceptions." She smiles.

"Yeah, it's no surprise that you think you're a special snowflake."

"Hey, you're special too. I heard that Harvey'd sworn off relationships until you."

He blushes. "So what's the big conclusion? What happened between the interview and Roissy - when you left Harvey in the middle of the night so he could find you at another Dom's feet? That's the climax of the story, isn't it?"

She must know the question was coming, nevertheless she pales and lowers her eyes to avoid Mike's judgmental glare. "That's personal."

"But all that other shit wasn't?" He asks with disbelief.

She puts a hand to her forehead and leans down between her knees. "I did drink too much, didn't I?"

"Yes."

"I talk too much too. Eddy says I need to work on my filters."

"It's okay. You've been - " he thinks about all the things she's revealed and how it shapes his new perception of Harvey's ex. She's not the monster he built her up to be, but she's hardly an angel either. She's been . . . "surprising."

"I guess that's good coming from you."

Mike shrugs.

She exhales deeply, releasing all her pent up anxiety and stress. After a while Mike thinks she's fallen asleep, but she turns and gazes at him seriously.

"You know, you look a little like Marcus. Or, you will someday."

"He's Darby's other, uh, Sub or whatever?"

"Yeah, he is. But he's also mine. We belong to each other."

"So," he gulps. "Is Marcus bi too?"

"No, not really, but it doesn't matter. He still loves me." She smiles.

"How long has he been with Darby?"

"Twenty-nine years. They met in college."

"Thirty years?! And he's chill with having you around all the time?"

"It's not like I was unexpected. Marcus has been training Subs for decades. I'm just the first one they both fell in love with. Eddy wouldn't have collared me if Marcus didn't approve."

"Seriously?"

"We're a family. We make big decisions together."

Mike looks away from her with a frown. Everything, absolutely everything he thought he knew about Scottie is wrong. He's never felt so blindsided by anyone before. "So Marcus helped train you?" Mike asks, still not sure what training would even involve.

"He was my sponsor."

"What does that mean?"

She sits up to explain with excited enthusiasm. "When new trainees come in Darby assigns them to one of us. But before me, it was just Marcus. Think about it, what is the definition of an apprentice?"

"A person who learns a job or skill by working for a fixed period of time for someone who is very good at that job or skill," Mike says automatically, the Webster definition scrolling across his memory.

Scottie laughs and cocks her head. "Uhm, yeah. Exactly."

Mike blushes and points to his head. "I have a, uh, good memory."

"Right. So, if you think of it that way, who should an apprentice Sub be working with? Another Sub, or a Dom?"

Mike frowns in thought. "A Sub, I guess."

"Exactly!" She exclaims with excitement. "Because even though Eddy had plenty to teach me, what I really needed, what we all need but most of us never get, is instruction on how to do what we do. How to be submissive without sacrificing who we are." She's beaming with passionate interest. "Our parents do their best, but they're a different generation and it's not like most of us would listen anyway. So we go along sampling Doms, hoping we find one who wants us, and thinking that if we can learn to submit to what they want we'll be happy. But that's not how it works. If we don't know ourselves first, if we don't insist on a life that fulfills us and a Dom who wants and respects us just as we are despite all our flaws and quirks and bad habits, then why are we submitting? What is it all for?"

Mike stares at her, speechless.

She sits all the way up on her knees, her skirts falling down softly over her thighs. Her eyes are alight with playful enthusiasm and happiness. The confidence he'd mistaken for cockiness isn't about perfection with Scottie, it's about security. Security not only in her situation, but in herself. It occurs to Mike with a sudden stab of painful understanding that he's never felt that - security. Not once in his whole life.

"You're kinda cute, you know?" Scottie says with a shy smile.

"Thanks?"

"Now that I think about it, you might be fun to apprentice with."

"Uhm…"

"The sad ones are always so sweet and grateful once they realize how wonderful life is going to be."

"I'm not sad and my life is already grea-"

Just then Scottie falls forward and kisses him. It's clumsy and quick and ends with a bout of giggles. It's the first, no, second time he's kissed another Sub and Mike finds it surprisingly not icky.

"Oh my god, I'm so drunk," she chokes out through the laughter.

Mike shakes his head, too overwhelmed to think straight. He stands and offers Scottie his hand. "Let me help you get into bed, okay?"

She snorts but gives him her hand anyway.

The splitting headache and relentless feeling of desperation has been keeping Mike awake all night. He finally sits up and looks at a clock. It's only quarter to one. He groans and falls back on the pillow. As soon as he helped Scottie into bed Mike realized that there wasn't anything for him to do. Darby was gone, Scottie was asleep, and he didn't even have his iPad. For a few minutes he stood staring at the front door contemplating what might happen if he just left. He could do it, easily. There was no lock, no one was watching him. He could just leave, find a pay phone and call Harvey's cell. But what would that accomplish? It would probably qualify as some kind of minor crime and he'd end up back where he started, or worse.

Eventually he gave up trying to entertain himself and flopped into bed, feeling too restless and lazy to truly sleep. After hours of tossing and turning, arrested by thoughts, questions, and uncomfortable realizations aroused by Scottie's story, Mike finally decided to take one of the sleeping pills he'd been given by the doctor. They're apparently too mild, however, because within an hour Mike is awake again and feeling the beginnings of a withdrawal.

With a groan Mike rolls out of bed and pads across the room. Hopefully there's something to fill up his stomach with. A full belly can be a miracle cure for sleeplessness.

"Hello, Michael."

Mike stops in the middle of the dimly lit living room and turns sleepily to the figure sitting on the couch.

"You look out of sorts," Darby comments dryly.

Mike wraps his arms around himself and nods toward the kitchen. "I can't sleep. I thought, maybe some food."

Darby puts a bookmark in this thick novel and stands. "Let's go see."

Mike follows him, barefoot and uncomfortably exposed in only a pair of boxers. Once in the kitchen Darby opens the refrigerator and peers in. "Oh, dear. We are low." He pushes aside a jug of juice. "Sugar will only make matters worse," he muses. Behind it is a small carton of milk, which he takes out and sets on the counter. He then finds a round of fresh mozzarella, a tomato and a half-loaf of bread. Five minutes later Mike is sitting at the table where Darby presents him with a plate of beautifully arranged slices of cheese garnished with olive oil and salt, crisp red tomato and soft bread slices. A tall glass of milk sits beside it. Darby pulls out the chair opposite and sits to watch him eat with a sleepy grin.

"Thank you," Mike says gratefully. "This looks really good."

"I hope it helps."

Mike creates a little sandwich and takes his first glorious bite.

"I'm sorry to have disturbed you," he says, feeling unusually relaxed around the man - a man who seems like an entirely different person to him than the one he'd left earlier in the evening.

"Not at all. It was just some pleasure reading. I rarely sleep more than four or five hours so I sometimes read late into the night."

Mike's eyebrows rise. "Wow. No wonder you get so much done."

Darby chuckles. "Well, it doesn't hurt."

When Mike has finished Darby insists on taking his plate and washing it.

"I must be honest, Michael, you don't look well tonight. Did something happen this evening that I should know about?"

Mike rubs his eyes and shakes his head. "No. It was all fine. I'm just tired and... and I miss Harvey."

"That's understandable." Darby pulls out his chair and then follows him back into the living room. He sits back down and picks up his book, which he lays closed over one knee, his attention still entirely on Mike. He looks expectant, as if waiting for Mike to do something.

"Well, thanks again," Mike says awkwardly as he inches back toward his bedroom door. Unfortunately, despite his full belly and Darby's strangely comforting presence, Mike won't sleep. His shivers have not subsided and he still feels jittery and restless.

"If you'd like to sit quietly, here, that would be acceptable."

Mike's eyebrows furrow as he realizes what the man is suggesting. He's pointing to the patch of rug to the left of his knees.

Mike shakes his head, wide eyed.

"It's up to you. I'm quite absorbed in my book so you will not be in my way. If you find that the company of a Dom helps with theses things, you might want to consider it." With that simple suggestion, Darby opens his books with both hands wrapped around the pages and continues reading. Mike stares at the spot beside Darby's knees with a blossoming desire so unexpected he feels as though he's cheated on Harvey.

But how could this be considered improper? Harvey asked Darby to watch Mike, knowing full well who he is and what he does. Harvey trusts this man despite their tense history, so why shouldn't Mike? With a tentative step Mike creeps forward, waiting to see how the other man will respond. When he doesn't look up, even when Mike is standing almost squarely before him, Mike makes up his mind and kneels.

First he turns his head away in embarrassment and lays his cheek on the couch. Darby says nothing so he stays this way for several minutes listening to the pages turn steadily. After awhile he starts to grow sleepy, but the cold breeze on his face from the window across the room keeps him from fully relaxing, so he turns to the other cheek and sighs, enjoying the pleasant warmth of the neighboring body and sense of safety and calm that gently carries him to sleep.

"Mike."

A hand rests softly on his head, not stroking, not petting, just resting. "Mike."

He opens his eyes wearily and finds that his nose is pressed into Darby's thigh. He pulls away and looks up.

"I'm heading to bed. I think you'll sleep well until morning." His voice is low and soothing and authoritative.

Mike sighs and nods, already imagining with pleasure the warmth of his bed. "Yeah."

"Do you need assistance?" Darby asks as Mike stands on shaky legs. "No," he says. "But thanks."

"Goodnight."

"Night."

Bad habits, even those overcome as a child, have a nasty reputation for flaring up under stress. Mike sits on a overly stuffed couch in the medical wing's sitting room chewing his nails and waiting for the state appointed counselor to show up. Darby insisted they arrive ten minutes early because apparently Mike needs to learn punctuality. But all Mike is really learning are the limits of his sanity. Scottie too looks ready to come out of her skin. The usually serene and self-controlled Sub is just as jittery, anxious, and distracted as Mike. She has been withdrawn all morning and Mike suspects he knows the reason.

That morning, when Mike had shuffled into the kitchen punctually at seven o'clock to prepare breakfast, he was surprised to find Darby sitting at the table with a pinched expression and white knuckled grip around his coffee cup. Scottie was sitting across from him with tracks of dried tears running down her cheeks.

Darby turned and looked at him steadily. His expression softened marginally, but maintained it's infuriatingly business-like indifference. "You have a long day ahead of you, Michael." Darby had said. "Get some more sleep and find me when you've rested. Your appointment is scheduled at four o'clock. Sharp. We will, of course, be early."

Mike mumbled an awkward confirmation and scurried away, not to reemerge until after noon. By then whatever had transpired was old news. Nevertheless the tension is tangible and has created an icy cold riff that makes Mike begrudgingly regretful. It was, after all, Mike's encouragement that convinced Scottie to spill her long held secret.

"Don't look so glum, Michael. You'll be reunited with Harvey in a few hours," Darby says reproachfully. "And remember, the counselor's job is to discuss options with you, they cannot make you do anything you don't want."

Mike bites his thumbnail and feels a bit of skin puncture. "Shit." He sucks the wound and then glances up at Darby. "Where is Harvey anyway?"

"Close. At the appropriate time, I'll bring you to him. Stop worrying."

Mike rolls his eyes and looks again at the clock. The counselor is already twelve minutes late and it's making Mike itch with irritation. If the law states that he has to meet for two full hours, does that that mean the clock starts at the appointment time? Or when the meeting actually starts? If it's the later then that means he'll be separated from Harvey for an additional fifteen minutes, which means. . . Mike drops his sore fingers to his side and slouches down in his seat petulantly. This is pathetic. "I'm going to the bathroom," he says, standing.

Scottie suddenly brightens and looks wide eyed to her Dom. "May I go too? Please?"

Darby looks between them with a strained but knowing expression. Just as he's about to answer a flustered looking man with thick square glasses and a cheap wrinkled tie busts through the door.

"I'm late," he announces with defeat. He's staring miserably at the clock hanging above a small water cooler. Seeming to conclude that this is not a mistake worth fretting over, he shrugs and turns to look at the room's occupants. He is a young Dom with golden skin, dark unruly hair, and an unusually slight and unassuming frame. At first glance Mike assumes he's Italian, but upon closer inspection his features seem less and less European. "Michael Ross?" He asks with a bright grin and surprisingly American accent.

Mike gulps and nods. Without saying one word to Darby, as some might do out of respect, the man steps forward to shake his hand - an egalitarian gesture that startles Mike, especially as it is done without any smugness or rebellion, just the simple respect most Doms reserve for members of their own orientation. Mike takes his hand gladly and shakes it with hearty confidence. Before releasing Mike looks down and notices with curiosity a colorful tattoo peaking out from under his shirt cuff.

"I'm Gabriel Martinez. Thanks for waiting." He gestures to a door leading to a small private room. "Shall we?"

Gabriel Martinez, Mike learns, is a Mexican-American postgraduate student from Los Angeles studying Social Work at a university in Bologna. Although currently he's working as an intern and translator for the AISDP, or the "Italian Agency for Submissive Rights and Protection". He's an attractive but somewhat scruffy looking Dom, about Mike's age with a cheerful countenance and easy-going dominance that Mike rarely encounters. Gabriel speaks eight languages, each of which he demonstrates with a flush of embarrassment when Mike urges him to show-off his skill.

"I have a eidetic memory," Mike says. "I've had my fair share of intellectual exhibition."

"You'd be a great candidate for language learning," Gabriel says with a smile. "You should try it sometime." There's something in his tone that conveys the same sentiment of proud encouragement Mike cherishes from Harvey.

"I should," Mike agrees, feeling warm and optimistic for the first time in days. "It would have been nice to communicate with these people." Mike gabs a finger in the direction of Roissy at large.

"I take it you haven't been enjoying Italy?"

"It's awful. Or at least what little I've seen of it."

"That's a shame," Gabriel says. "It's a beautiful country. Whenever possible the agency likes to have someone who speaks the interviewee's first language oversee appointments, so I travel a lot." Gabe looks out through the little window at the back of the office and smiles. "I love Como," he says fervently. "You're my hero for getting me a free train ride up here."

As soon as the words leave his mouth, Gabe's eyes widen and his smile droops. "Oh my god, I don't mean… I don't mean to imply that your situation is in any way. I mean -"

Mike laughs. "Chill. I'm glad someone got something good out of it. And to be honest, even though you're a thousand times better than what I was expecting, I just want to play through the motions as quickly as possible so I can go home. In fact, is there any way you can cut this down by an hour?"

Gabriel frowns apologetically. "This is recorded," he says, holding up a small electronic dictaphone. "According to section six of amendment 584 you are required to meet for a total of one hundred and twenty minutes -" while speaking Gabe is writing something on his notepad with a Sharpie. "To discuss the nature of your recent incident of endangerment." He hold up the pad and points to the words PLAY ALONG! I'M BEING REVIEWED FOR EMPLOYMENT!. Mike smiles. "And of course," he says with a casual efficiency that in no way equals his expression of exaggerated pleading, "to offer you some options as you move forward." He turns the page of the pad to reveal I KNOW I'M SHIT AT THIS, BUT PRETEND LIKE I'M AWESOME AND I'LL TOTALLY OWE YOU ONE!

"I understand," Mike says with a serious nod. He reaches across and grabs the pad off Gabriel's lap. His smile widens as Mike jots something down on the pad and holds it up. YOU ARE AWESOME, it says. AND YOU'RE EASILY THE LEAST SHITTY THING THAT'S HAPPENED TO ME IN DAYS.

Mike knows he's being shamelessly and unfairly flirtatious as he grins stupidly at Gabriel, but the Dom's happy flush and subtle shift forward as if drawn towards Mike makes it entirely worth the brief stab of guilt.